


Family Portrait

by rhyme_n_reason



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will, Cannibalism, Hallucinations, Hannibal's Cooking, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Partial Casefic, Possessive Hannibal, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyme_n_reason/pseuds/rhyme_n_reason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal will do anything to ensure Will Graham's attention lies solely on himself, even targeting the newest serial murderer to guarantee it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First murder

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try for a healthy plot to porn ratio but this is my first time writing so if it's a little sloppy I apologize.

{“It’s Tuesday, 11:58 AM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Will Graham.”}

The white picket fence and cheery day belied the horrors that were awaiting Will when he crossed the threshold of a nice two story Cape Cod style house. A hand tossing through his tangled curls as an officer pointed him to the living room.

Jack was already waiting for him in the hallway, impatiently tapping his foot under sternly crossed arms. “Where have you been? It’s been an hour and a half since I called you.” Will’s gaze settled to the floor, only fluttering up for the briefest moment before skittering away again. “I’m sorry, Ginger got out and there have been…coyotes hanging around.” The young golden retriever mix was the newest addition to his family and while she no longer cowered in the corners she also wasn’t very good at listening to him yet. The part about the coyotes however was a half truth. Blood chilling screeches that belong to no animal that Will can identify, hallucination or not it would be the death of him if Ginger succumbed to whatever was stalking his house.

 

A deep sigh parted the silence as Jack’s warm hand landed on the younger man’s shoulder. “Will, if you are going to be delayed at least call me so I don’t have half the department waiting on you.” Will fumbled around in his pocket as if only just remembering he had the slim black plastic phone and thumbed the screen, watching as it refused to turn on. “It’s dead anyways...or broken.” Will’s small smile felt wrong on his lips as he was led further into the house.

* * *

 

Right angles of splintered wood from picture frames littered the area, furniture shoved out of the way, giving the far expanse of wall a wide birth where it was clear of any debris. Pictures and paintings torn up to shreds leaving the piece of gruesome artwork painted on the wall the only piece of art in the room. Dark maroon, still crimson in some places where it was still drying drew the eye. Will hardly even saw the four dead figures sprawled face down on the floor, their throats slit. Emotion gripped at Will’s heart, though it wasn’t dread or hate like the men in blue outside were feeling, it was pure appreciation for the piece in front of him. It was beautiful. Eyes wandered over the wall, trying to absorb everything on the wall at once. A woman with softly curled hair tenderly gazing at a handsome man as he pushed a young boy on a swing set; a small girl twirling with a pinwheel between them. The glee on the children’s faces mesmerized Will. The only thing that came to mind was how happy this family was. The sound of a throat clearing behind him startled Will out of his head and colored his cheeks.

* * *

 

Will almost looked serene, as if the darkness just edging around his mind has receded just a bit. A twinge of emotion rippled across the frozen pond of Hannibal’s mask, something almost akin to affection having to be tamped down quickly as he silently strode up to Jacks larger frame; Inwardly smiling as Jack jumped just a fraction back in surprise. Nothing escaped his sight while Will however, didn’t seem to even notice his appearance.

The blush that blooms over Will’s cheeks stirs something like lust in him, something that Hannibal hasn’t felt in a long while towards another human being that wasn’t going to immediately be his dinner. Hannibal was enjoying exploring these feelings as well as Will’s company.

Hannibal’s presence was an ever growing occurrence at crime scenes, allowed only by a carefully veiled excuse about Will’s mental health benefiting by having a professional on hand. He loved watching the young empath work. If only he could monopolize the boy’s time and have every case he worked be one of Hannibal’s masterpieces.

 

Dark emotions tugged his eyes to slits as Will turned back around to stare reverently at the blood carefully painted on the wall. Normally Will was weak and blanching over crime scenes, barely able to stand with nightmares threatening to tear him to pieces. It was odd to have Will be so content and uplifted. It wouldn’t do for anyone but himself to drag Will into such a place, blissful or otherwise. A decision was made and a carefully worn mask was slotted back into place as a half concocted plan was filed away for later thought. For now, Will was the center of his attention something he hoped would be reversed in the near future.

* * *

 

Palms sweaty, Will hurriedly swiped them across his pants before raking them through his tousled curls. A shallow breath did little to cool his heated lungs and prepare him for his talent to launch him into a killer’s mind.

The room faded to black around him, flash of gold knocking past him in a steady rhythm slowly washed away Will Graham and brought forth steady hands and a creative mind of the last person to see this family alive.

 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

_“I have been canvassing this family for days. After the lifeless portrait they commissioned from me, they deserve something better, something perfect. I take dozens of photographs of them, where they go and what they do. I will do it perfect this time, my true masterpiece._

_I’ve been to the house before; I know there is no alarm on the back door and that is where I make my entrance. It late, the children are in bed, Mother in the bath while Father is asleep in front of the TV, making him an easy target. The happenstance of this situation could not be more perfect. A cloth is quickly doused and pressed lightly to Father’s face, ensuring he will stay asleep while I work. I pay a visit to brother and sister and take my turn with them too. They are light and will be easy to move. Mother is difficult, struggling and knocking over things, but she comes easily when I threaten her little ones._

_The whole family is together in the living room, all of them sleeping peacefully. My hands break every scrap of this family that doesn’t do them justice, clearing a large space of canvas for myself to work on. I set out a large bucket, picking up Father by the hair and pulling a cool blade across his throat, watching with joy as bright crimson splatters across the pristine white carpet, but most of it lands in the bucket. One by one, their life is drained and mixed together, forming my paint; they will be unified and immortalized by my hand. This is my design.”_

_A well used brush is dipped into the gore and lifted to the wall with sure hands. Lost in thought as a warm snout and the 8 sharp points of antlers are tenderly caressed against his back._

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

With curls of arousal in his stomach a surge of cool air spilled into Will’s burning lungs as he was dragged back to reality. A rush of air forced itself out in an imitation of a laugh. “An artist is their own worst critic.”

 “Will, are you talking about the killer or just artists in general.” Hannibal slipped into mock worry already filing away every crease of emotion that had flashed between Will’s shoulder blades.

Will nodded, fingers hovering over the thin brush strokes of the young girl’s smiling face, mirroring just faintly the joy that was stolen from her. “The killer, he really loved this family, he knew them, was probably in contact with them more than once, most likely he has painted them before but he didn’t like the way it turned out, look for something that has similar brush strokes to this, if he hasn’t taken it that is.” 

The doctor suppressed delight at the news, his plan would require much less effort than he thought it would. “Jack, if you could be so kind as to escort Will outside for some fresh air, I would like to analyze the brush strokes to see if anything else can be ascertained about our killer.”  “Of course Doctor Lecter, I’ll let you have some peace while you work.” Adjusting the dark blue fabric slowly choking him, Jack stepped into Will’s space and led him away.

As soon as they disappeared from view Hannibal launched into action, he wouldn’t have long until someone else came back in. A quick scan of the room showed only three paintings, two of which were ripped up landscapes, the last being his goal, carefully picking through he found two halves of a whole signature both of which were tucked away into the red silk of his pocket square and elegantly slipped back into place. The man slowly turned his attention back to the wall just in time for Jack to walk back in. “Have you discovered anything important?”

 

“Sadly, I gathered very little that could not be ascertained from the bodies themselves. But one thing was quite interesting. The wounds on the victims were inflicted from left to right, indicative of a right handed individual, but the brush strokes are created with the left hand. I believe we are looking for someone who is ambidextrous.” Hannibal excused himself from the room and went to go check up on his favorite patient.

* * *

 

Will was leaning against the passenger side of his car, arms hanging limply at his sides as he gazed unseeing into the sky. Doctor Lecter walks towards the scene and savors the way Will seems exhausted. It’s likely that the young man would fall to the ground if not for the heavy steel baring his weight. “William, if you feel yourself up for it I would like to cook for you tomorrow.” Hannibal’s smooth voice snapped Will out of his daze. “Huh? What? Uh, yeah. I mean yes.”  Dropping his tone just a bit Hannibal leaned close into Will’s space. “This would generally be a good time to thank your host for his invitation.” Will’s cheeks burst into color from embarrassment. Will was always a little out of it after dipping into a killer’s mind, so Hannibal could forgive this slight indiscretion for the moment. Although he has been trying to teach Will better manners, the young man was slow to learn and needed a gentle reminder from time to time. Hannibal had to admit that he took pleasure in correcting his patient, especially when he could replay the actions in his head later and thoroughly enjoy himself with fantasies of chastising his pet.

Hand pushing through his locks, Will struggled with his words as Hannibal waited patiently for his reply blonde hair immaculately slotted into place. Even the slight breeze refused to touch him. “I… yeah, sounds good, that would be nice… thank you. What, what time?” Will’s fingers twitched at how stupid he was sounding to himself. Doctor Lecter’s dinner parties were world renown. Anyone who was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of his kitchen would say that their meal had been made by the hands of God himself.

 

Lecter paused thinking carefully about his words. There were many things to consider, meal preparation, cooking time, and of course how much time he wanted to spend with the meat. “Dinner will be ready at 8:30. However, you are not bound to that time if you are willing to come earlier William.” Hannibal brushed a comforting hand down the rough grey sleeve of Will’s jacket, reveling in the coarse friction against his palm before walking away. Only once he was inside the privacy of his car did Hannibal brush his lips against the lingering feeling of Will against his skin.

* * *

 

{“It’s Tuesday, 8:13 PM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

Since that first night Jack Crawford had brought a young, slightly distraught Will Graham into his office, Hannibal had taken notice of the intriguing man.  It was just two weeks after that incident that an older gentleman had pushed past Will to talk to some harlot of a reporter and knocked his perfect angel to the ground. That was the first entry in his new rolodex. A steadily growing circle of little white business cards and cardstock held a variety of names, some containing pertinent information like address and telephone, while others just contained a description of the person and their crime against his Will.

August 24th

Bookstore clerk

Female

Blonde hair

Green eyes

Hannibal remembers her with disgust hissing through his composure. This woman took too much liberty with his Will, touching him across his forearm and chest as she handed him books. However, Hannibal was looking to let off steam on someone who could be a substitute until this blood painter could be found. So that left people who hurt Will in some way. Thin fingers flipped through the cards until they stuttered on a card with the top corners cut off.

Mr. Randolph Hark

October 11th

That was all it took for Doctor Lecter to rip the card out and move to the recipe books.

 

* * *

 

 

{“It’s Wednesday, 9:23 AM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland, and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

A pen was neatly perched on Doctor Lecter’s hand, idly making notes that had no real meaning. He was far too focused on the meal that he was going to be preparing for Will rather than on the pitifully sobbing sow of a woman sitting in the chair opposite him in his office. Stealing a glance at the clock proved it to be as early as he knew it to be. The day seemed to be dragging on for far too long. Hannibal weighed the option of canceling the rest of his appointments and just strangling the hefty woman who was nauseating him. Deciding to cancel his last three appointments seemed like an acceptable course of action.

* * *

Green eyes fluttered as Randolph was slowly roused from unconsciousness. Trying to move, he was panicking to find that both his arms and legs were immobile. Trying to call out for help also proved futile. Wherever he was it was pitch black and as silent as the grave. “I see you have decided to join the world of the living Mr. Hark. Although for how much longer I am unsure.” Hark started to hyperventilate as a blinding white light above him was clicked on. 

Blue surgical gloves covered Hannibal’s hands, the white sleeves of his button down shirt were rolled up past his elbows and a heavy black butcher’s apron covered to his knees. A gloved hand pushed Randolph’s sweaty hair from his forehead. Doctor Lecter had his prey strapped to a sturdy metal table, although he had no need. The man had already been dosed with a paralyzing agent, one that would keep Mr. Hark from moving without affecting the ability to feel pain. A low dose of Atracurium would keep the man beneath Hannibal still without the use of a respirator. Petrified brown eyes stared up as Hannibal picked up a thin scalpel and examined it under the dazzling hospital grade light. “Mr. Randolph. Do you recall Will Graham?” Hannibal paused, waiting for the response, and when he didn’t get one the point of the fine blade dug into a trapped leg. “It would be in your best interest to answer me Mr. Randolph.” Randolph shook his head violently. “Really, I thought you would remember him quite well. I’m surprised you don’t. Why don’t you let me refresh your memory.” Hannibal pulled up a chair and sat down, ready to get to work.

“Randolph, do you remember the morning after your daughter’s body was found?” The man nodded his expression twisting a little in confusion. “Yes you do, excellent. Well, as you know, men came to your house, Jack Crawford, myself, and Will Graham. Do you remember what happened?” Realization dawned on Hark. “Yes, that’s right, now you remember. William was kind enough to tell you that the one who brutally violated and killed your little one was your own flesh and blood, your brother, and that they needed all the information you could tell them. Yet you responded with punching my toy in the face. I don’t take kindly to others damaging what is mine.” The scalpel slid across the back of Randolph’s hand, slicing through the skin and subcutaneous layer. Hank spat out profanities as Hannibal cut deeper, exposing the white tendons of his hand. The only hand that had any right to leave a mark on Will’s body was his own. “Your fist broke his thin flesh and made him bleed.” A single tear of blood had pearled up and run down Will’s cheek from beneath his left eye. It had taken every bit of restraint Hannibal had to not run his tongue across the wound and suck upon it like a leech.

“His face was sullied by your black mark for 11 days.” Every day that it had stained Will’s face Hannibal fantasized about how to return the favor to Mr. Hark. “For every hour that I looked at my dear William and thought of you dirtying him, will be another agonizing minute that I keep you alive and screaming for death.” The scalpel made a faint clink as Hannibal set it down and picked up a pair of medical scissors sliding neatly underneath a stretched taught tendon. Lector drank the guttural noise that would have been a pained yell as he pulled up until it snapped. Shaking his head Hannibal clicked his tongue, “That won’t do.” Lithe fingers released the restraint binding Hark’s jaws.

 

“HELP PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP ME!! PLEASE!” Randolph’s dry throat cracked around the harshly shouted pleas while Hannibal gazed down into frightened eyes and chuckled. “There we go, much better. Now let me listen to the sweet symphony of your agony.” Another tendon snapped like a violin string and a piercing howl ripped through the darkness held at bay by the light overhead.

* * *

{“It’s Wednesday, 7:22 PM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Will Graham.”}

 

Will’s car rumbled to a halt outside Hannibal’s large home. He had been there a handful of times in the past, even still Will had only seen about a third of the rooms within. Shaking hands fiddled with the buttons on his blue plaid shirt, checking the time displayed on the dash for about the hundredth time that night. It was still relatively early, although Will knew he was welcome anytime. A finger brushed against the keys dangling from the ignition; his house, office and car key were all old and worn with one exception: Hannibal’s house key. Will recalled the memory as he held the cold metal. Hannibal presenting it to him a couple days after Will had given the older man a copy of his own house key to feed his dogs while he was on a case several days drive away. Hannibal had insisted that it was only fair that he have one as well, if ever the Doctor was away and the need arose for Will to water his plants.

Will frowned at the glinting metal. He felt like there had been something more to it than simple convenience, but there had been nothing in Hannibal’s tone or stance to hint otherwise. However Will enjoyed the light thrill it gave him, to be able to enter someone else’s domain when they were not there, to be free to poke around without the consequence of being caught so long as everything was back in its place when he was done.

 

Steeling himself, Graham tugged the keys free and stuffed them into a pocket.

* * *

 

Hannibal knew his guest had arrived as soon as he heard the car roll up, but continued cooking, not wanting to rush Will in his preparation. The young man always took his time getting from the car to the door, sometimes even getting halfway up before turning right around and fleeing back to the safety of his car. William always eventually built up enough conviction to ring the doorbell in the end. As if on cue the light ring cut through the sounds of sizzling meat, signaling the predator that his lamb was finally ready.  Dusting his hands off on the immaculate apron tied to his waist Hannibal moved to open the door, amused as always to find Will in his usual attire. Will however seemed flustered, standing awkwardly in the doorway, taking in the older man’s folded up sleeves and apron clad hips.

“I’m sorry I’m too early aren’t I?” Will moved to back off the step feeling like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be seeing. The man seemed to roll out of bed in pristine suits and to see Lecter in such a state of undress was doing interesting things to his thoughts.

“Nonsense Will, you are right on time if you are willing to assist me that is.” Inviting his guest inside, Hannibal guided the dark brunet to his kitchen. Lecter noticed the way Will hovered in the doorway; not wanting to cross the threshold into what was so clearly Hannibal’s private sanctum. Chuckling to himself, Hannibal continued cooking as if he had never even left the kitchen, flipping the two medallion sized cuts of meat that used to be Randolph’s cheeks on a searing pan. “Do you plan to segment that fruit from over there or do you intend to make me do all the work?” He punctuated the question with an unnecessary point of the tongs in his hand to Will’s direction.

 Will fumbled with the hem of his shirt as he inched his way to the sink. He felt out of place in such a sacred area, like he was tainting it with his severe lack of any cooking prowess. Taking longer than he should to wash his hands, Will stared hard at the drain, trying to get a handle on his pounding heart before he could even think to get his feet to move.

As much as Will was a genius at reading people emotions and their intentions he was terrible at hiding his own, Hannibal could read the boy like an open book. Catching every emotion that fluttered through his heart in the bunch of Will’s shoulders. The rush his lamb was feeling at being allowed into the wolf’s den, even though his mind was far from catching up his talent was already drawing false starts, if the shiver that ran down Will’s neck was anything to go by.

Will’s form was stiff as he when he went to stand in front of the heavy cutting board, hands awkward as he held a long knife. The tiniest huff of a laugh escaped Hannibal’s lungs as he corrected Will’s grip on the stainless steel. “You’ll find it’s easier to cut if you hold the knife like this.” The touch of slightly chilled flesh against Will’s naturally hot skin made the younger man’s breath hitch just barely. If Hannibal’s attention hadn’t been so fully focused on the brilliant man next to him he wouldn’t have even noticed it, however Hannibal pretended not to hear as he drew himself back to cooking the meat.

Holding a pear, Will drove the knife through it, surprised at how sharp the metal was as it effortlessly slit the fruit in half. A thrill spread from the base of his spine as Will repeated the action. It almost felt like the worst taboo to be doing such a thing in Hannibal’s kitchen. It felt like a space reserved just for the elegant figure cooking behind him, like he shouldn’t be there at all. Will felt like a child, mediocre and unworthy of assisting. But part of him found even that thought oddly exciting. Like he was allowed to mess up and he wouldn’t be looked at any differently through Hannibal’s eyes. It was a comfort as he carefully pressed the knife through the soft fruit.

Hannibal opened up the oven and ladled broth over thin meat, smiling as his mind wandered to Randolph. The man had begged and screamed every second while Doctor Lecter meticulously removed the 27 bones in his hand one by one. The look on Randolph’s face when Hannibal picked up a meat tenderizer was enough to make him laugh. Every time he pounded down blood splattered out of the open incisions as Randolph’s heart frantically pumped more out of the gushing wounds. It was Will’s voice that brought him back to the kitchen and had him closing the oven door.

The pear that had been on the cutting board was sliced up and ready to decorate the light salad Hannibal had planned. Although Will’s skills were unrefined and a little sloppy, the imposing chef didn’t mind, in fact, it made them all the more special. The effort that Will put into each cut shone through in every section of the sweet fruit. “Thank you William, you did excellently.” A small speckling of pride colored Will’s irises before he averted his gaze lower. Will was never prone to eye contact, but he got the closest to it when he was alone with Doctor Lecter; even coming up as high as the man’s clavicle once. Hannibal wouldn’t force or rush it; he was an incredibly patient man. “Dinner is almost done, so if you would be so kind as to set the table.” Will nodded and almost reluctantly left the kitchen.

Hannibal would have loved to have the slightly flushed FBI agent watch him cook. He had been told on more than one occasion that he was at his most seductive while he cooked, but Hannibal doubted that Will was ready to find out about the secret ingredient in his cooking just yet. Grinning, Hannibal pulled the roasting pan from the oven and set it on the large preparation table sitting like an island amidst the sea that was his kitchen. The thinly pounded hand was cooked to perfection. A slender blade made quick work of the meat as it was sliced into inch wide strips, hands dancing as ingredients that had been slowly cooking for hours were layered out on the tender flesh and rolled up. The food was plated like fine sculptures under Hannibal’s dexterous fingers. One day Lector hoped that the oblivious man only a room away would be a part of his process from bloody start to steaming end. Just imagining Will dripping with blood and pointing out all the parts that he wanted Hannibal to cook for him was enough to make the man salivate in a way that only the subtlety wafting food he cooks could.

Arms laden with plates, Hannibal looked like a professional as he set the deliciously smelling food before Will. “Tonight I have prepared Involtini with wild mushroom filling in a thin broth, and as you may have inferred we will also be having a pear spinach salad with diced walnuts. Paired with an ‘83 French Bordeaux.” Will was salivating as he reached for his fork, hesitating and quickly setting the cloth napkin across his lap. Hannibal’s gaze purred the words ‘good boy’ when Will remembered his dinning etiquette. Will naturally mirrored the man across from him, waiting for Hannibal to pick up his utensil so he wouldn’t look like a fool if he chose the wrong one.

When he cut into the steaming rolled meat, sounds were already lined up to escape his throat. The juicy flesh touched his tongue and the flavor was enough to have Will moaning shamelessly, oblivious to everything but the slice of pure heaven he was allowed to indulge in.

Hannibal smiled around his fork, indulging in his own heaven from across the table and imagining that Will was making those noises for an entirely different reason. Every time the fork passed through Will’s spread lips he pictured something thicker slipping between them. Hannibal had to change his thought process; it would look undignified if he were to react to Will during dinner. So instead Lecter’s thoughts drifted to how his precious pet would react if he knew what he was eating. Probably disgusted at first, throwing up the carefully prepared meal that took so long to complete. Maybe Will would fight, try to physically harm him for secretly feeding Will human meat. Or perhaps William would surprise him and thank Lector for making unworthy specimens of humanity into something that could be stomached.

A throb of deep seated satisfaction coursed through Hannibal’s stomach making the food taste even richer as he took a sip of dark wine, musing silently about the justice he wrung from Hark’s broken body. If only he could tell Will all about how Randolph begged for his life while sobbing in pain, how the man had been on the receiving end of Lecter’s blade because of his cruelty to his precious empath.

Will reluctantly relinquished his fork so he could take a sip of wine. Everything Hannibal fed him even down to the boxed lunches the man occasionally prepared for him were exceptional. “Doctor Lecter, your food is as incredible as always, thank you.” Loose curls fell over his eyes as Will beamed down at his picked clean plate. A gentle smile lifted the corners of Hannibal’s lips at the compliment. “I try to tailor the meal to my guests and when I have inspiration such as you to guide me, there is no doubt as to how the food will turn out.” Blushing, Will’s gaze dropped even lower till he was almost staring into his lap. It was the most forward Hannibal has ever been and Will couldn’t contain the giddy smile that spread across his face, attempting to conceal it in his napkin. If it hadn’t been so poorly timed it would have looked like the young man was just wiping his mouth, but Hannibal caught the way Will’s breath quickened. “And please, call me by my first name.” A knee bounced in place at the soft reprimand. It wasn’t the first time Hannibal had told Will that they were on a first name basis, but it was the first time he got a glimpse of the authority behind the other’s words. Lector really did not want him to feel like a patient. “Ok. Hannibal.”

They finished the meal in relative silence, the wine creating a sinful flush that had spread along Will’s cheeks which Hannibal could hardly look away from. Will of course asked to clean the table and even went as far as offer to wash the dishes but Hannibal refused, not wanting to keep his guest too late into the night. Will may not get more than a few hours of sleep a night, but Hannibal knew that the young man would feel like he was intruding if asked to stay later.

 

A small white paper bag was tucked neatly into Will’s surprised grasp. “Wha-” Hannibal pressed a digit to his lips, shushing the other man.

“I was trying out a new recipe the other day and I took the liberty of packing you some. Please tell me if you find it tolerable.”

“I’m sure it will be amazing no matter what it is Hannibal. Thanks.” The appreciation was plain on his face, gaze drifting into the region of Hannibal’s neck before darting to his chest. If Will wasn’t so averse to physical contact they may have even shook hands, but Hannibal made due with gently gripping Will’s shoulder before telling him to drive safely.

* * *

{“It’s Wednesday, 11:49 PM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Will Graham.”}

 

Only peeking into the bag when he was in the privacy of his car, Will was surprised to find a few dozen candied almonds. Safe to say about half of them didn’t survive long enough to make it back to his house. The sweet and slightly sticky treats too tempting to pass up on every red light and stop sign he came to.

Winston nearly knocked Will over when he unlocked the door. The sandy dog stretched to lick at his owner’s face while Clover makes a grab at the bag in his hand. “Clover, no girl this is a…” Will felt embarrassed at the way his train of thought was heading, almost feeling silly at the idea that the candy had been some sort of treat for helping with dinner. It was much more likely that Hannibal had made way too much for himself and was just trying to gift them to others; he would feel silly if come tomorrow Jack had some as well.

A low whine rippled through the dogs all scrounging for his attention. Will still feels sluggish energy thrumming through his tired form, remnants of his excitement from dinner and the sugar sticking to his teeth. There was no class to prepare for tomorrow and if there wasn’t a murder through the night and for as long as the nightmares allowed, Will might be able to get a complete night’s sleep. After stripping down Will climbed into bed and tried to settle down. Looking to his nightstand and deciding his chances of getting a good night sleep rose significantly with the addition of sleeping pills, Will popped two and chased an illusion of normalcy.

 

 

* * *

 

_Trees race endlessly towards the stars, the silence deafening in what should have been a forest rife with the sounds of life. Ice chilled his veins as Will’s pulse quickened; fear roaring in his ears as he struggled to hear any hint of the predator that was just out of sight. Warm breath puffed at the back of his neck, Will should feel terrified but the rush of desire that furled in his chest was more prominent than the fear. Soft surprise loosens a noise from Will’s throat as the Ravenstag pressed firmly against his back, not enough to break skin, but with sufficient pressure to urge the man forward._

_Every misstep results in the beast pawing angrily as Will’s heels. When he slows it pushes too hard and pierces Will’s flesh like daggers, gently enough to not be devastating but a warning nonetheless to keep his pace._

_The trees fall away to rocks and cliff faces, all pressing in around him, the stag still urgent at Will’s back till the rock face opens to reveal a yawning mouth of a cave. Will stumbling as he crosses the entrance into what was clearly the black stag’s den. A cold muzzle pressed to Will’s lower back, grabbing the fabric and pulling it over Will’s head with a toss of its own. Bones littered the cave walls as he was herded further into the darkness. Confusion bubbled over the boy’s features as warm hands slid over his chest leaving behind red streaks that didn’t belong to either of them._

_Something warm and soft was draped over Will’s shoulders, codling the man as he was pressed down onto a pile of straw. The velvety fur caressed Will’s fiery skin as strange but oddly familiar words echoed and enveloped him. The sounds recognizable and arousing enough to draw his hand to the hard cock between his legs a ripple of surprised excitement making the length in his fingers twitch when Will realized his boxers were already gone._

 

_A familiar presence pressed in from the shadows making Will’s skin prickle. “Hannibal? It’s so hot.” Will was confused and delighted, unsure about how he should feel. The Ravenstag had kidnapped his friend too. A pang of guilt and elation swirled in his gut as his hand rubbed lazily across the hardness between his legs. “I’m sorry.” The strange language drifted over again, Will recognizing bits and pieces of it. He offered back his own limited knowledge of Hannibal’s language, hoping the man would understand. “Hannibal prašome….” The words ‘ **save me** ’ died on Will’s tongue as he realized he didn’t want to be saved. _

* * *

{“It’s Thursday, 1:15 PM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

 

Hannibal got a rare early day off when the Verger twins both canceled their appointments. It was late in the afternoon and the fridge was full so the gentleman was free to wile away the hours in his study. The drive home was long but Lector took the time to fantasize about how he was to spend his unexpected free time. There was a book he still hadn’t finished and it had been some time since his harpsichord had felt the doctor’s loving touch.

His tranquil smile was shattered when Hannibal went to slot the keys into his front door and found it already unlocked. Nothing immediately seemed wrong when he gently pushed the door open; everything appeared as if it was in its proper place as Hannibal silently checked each downstairs room. The sounds of creaking wood came from the master bedroom on the second floor. Slipping off his shoes to muffle his footsteps Hannibal ascended the stairs. Prepared to use his hidden strength if need be, ever the efficient killer.

A flash of white against the rich wood on the top landing caught Lecter’s attention and filling the man with intrigue as he identified the intruder. He soundlessly stepped over the crumbled material, not wanting to make his presence known. Breathy sounds drifted down the still hallway, enthralling him and drawing the powerful man closer to his prize.

Nothing could prepare Lecter for what was awaiting him in his bedroom.

Spread out on the middle of his bed, clad only in Hannibal’s Cerulean blue shirt was the FBI’s most talented agent. Will Graham made the most tantalizing scene, lying on his back with the loose material spread out along his sides and pushed down one shoulder. None of the buttons were done up and it gave him a perfect view of Will’s slender frame.

A trembling hand lifted the cuff to his face so every time the young man drew a shuddering breath he was dousing his lungs with Hannibal’s unique scent. Teeth dug into the expensive material and muffled a high moan that escaped through the silky material as blind fingers slid across Will’s straining erection.

Catching the tail end of his name brought Hannibal back to his senses. The glaze of lust over Will’s eyes did little to hide the blank look he gave the room, looking through Hannibal instead of at him when he entered the room, lost to a wet dream inside of his hallucination. Walking forward, pupils dilating in desire and hunger, Hannibal calculated the best way to sate both his and Will’s hunger without devouring the young agent before him.

Fingertips grazed Will’s flushed cheek, eliciting a shiver from the heated body and eyes focus just for a moment on the perfect man seeming to float above him before fading away from reality. “Ha-Hannibal…so…hot-!” Hands stutter along his length as Will writhes amongst the sheets, disheveling the once perfectly flat surface into chaotic hills and valleys. If it were anyone other than Will, it would have irked the perfectionist to have his bed such a mess, but he made it look artful and provocative.

Hannibal dragged the flat of his thumb across Will’s silky lips and bit back a strong exhale as the younger man’s tongue licked across it; hips lifting wantonly into his hand and freely moaning around the thumb that Lecter slid further into the damp mouth, relishing the wet heat.

Fingers tucked under the stubbled chin, leaving Will’s jaw trapped in the older man’s strong grasp as Hannibal leaned down to gently bite a vulnerable section on his shoulder. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but with sufficient pressure to wet the cannibal’s hunger as he made a very tough decision. Hannibal slipped his hand away, a spider silk strand of saliva connecting his thumb to Will’s inviting lips.

“Hannibal…pra- prašome.”

_Hannibal please_

Lecter didn’t even know that Will knew what his native language was, let alone had been secretly practicing it, and the sound of Will begging in Lithuanian shattered his control. Not enough to change his earlier decision, but enough to alter it. A greedy mouth worked its way along Will’s pulse point, his domination of his own need in near perfect check. “William, turn over for me,” He whispered, more of an order than a request. Will fumbled to obey, limbs not wanting to work properly and Hannibal wondered how he could have made it all the way to his house and up the stairs with movements like that.

When Will was perched on quivering knees with his chest tucked against the bed and face pressed lightly against the rich scent of Hannibal’s pillow, the doctor took the time to fully appreciate the meal laid out before him. The way his own shirt was draped over Will’s features, just slightly too big for him. How the material clung to his sweat soaked skin, riding along the sides of his thighs with just the barest hint of the swell of his rear peaking through. Hannibal’s deft hands slid along Will’s thighs, rubbing up the back and down the front as he settled himself behind the empath. He took his time, nosing at the back of Will’s neck and enjoying the resulting shivers he pulled from the trembling man’s form. Will’s hands rose to his weeping cock and the young agent whined when Hannibal tugged them away, holding his wrists off to one side as he pressed himself flush against Will’s back.  A slow tormenting tongue worked its way along the back of Graham’s neck; biting into the flesh and tugging a gasp free from his lungs.

Confident fingers encircled the base of Will’s cock, rubbing a torturous path up the underside and slowly back down. Lecter relished the way the motions caused little shudders of pleasure to run up his spine. What should have been a clear moan was unattractively muffled by a pillow causing the doctor to glare and punishingly sink his teeth into the sensitive base of Will’s neck. Hard enough to bruise but low enough to be hidden beneath a shirt collar. The resulting yelp sated Doctor Lecter’s displeasure as the section of damp pillow was released.

He smiled at the angry red mark he left on the pale expanse of skin. “I would much rather hear the cacophony of your pleasure without any barriers William. It’s more appealing.” Releasing Will’s wrists he watched as the younger man struggled to avoid touching himself. Hannibal kissed over the indents left by his sharp teeth. One hand rubbing enticingly across the agent’s chest while the other resumed it’s slow pace between Will’s legs.

“S-s-skubėti.”

_Hurry_

Lecter softly growled at the inviting request. Almost akin to gentle begging and he catches the very brief stutter of hips as Will starts to lose himself even further into whatever reality he is so firmly seated in. The hand on Will’s chest trails lower and settles high on a naked thigh, pulling the bare rump firmly against his clothed lap. His trapped erection straining for a freedom that Hannibal was resolutely denying. If Lecter was to wholly ensnare his prey it needed to be done right, however a little indulgent behavior in this situation could be tolerated.  

He thrust hard against the cleft of Will’s ass, dragging lusty moans from the body flush against his chest. Fingers deftly slid over the velvety skin of his dripping cock as Hannibal quickened his movements. He wanted more than anything to test the softness against his tongue and memorize the flavor and see if it was as pleasing as he imagined it to be, but he held back. If Will was to be ensnared properly he had to be fully aware.

“Cum for me.” Hannibal’s accent was thick as he softly spoke into the other’s ear. Will thrust into Lecter’s tightening grip, drowning in ecstasy when he spilled onto his sheets. He pulled away; wanting to take in everything as Will lie panting heavily, slowly falling back into restful sleep.

 

* * *

Hannibal suppressed his own pressing need and took the time to clean his trespasser up and dress him back in his original clothes. He had a very small window of opportunity to set an intricate plan into motion and see if a trap could be sprung. With light hair slightly disheveled and suit somewhat wrinkled, Hannibal looked surprisingly human as he gently carried Will downstairs to the car. Tenderly placing Will in the passenger seat and dropping an affectionate kiss to his warm brow as he lightly fussed in his sleep. “Shhh. Patience William, you’ll be home soon.”


	2. Second meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets some much needed therapy and as usual Hannibal doesn't seem to be helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no murders this chapter. I know you all must be very disappointed.

{“It’s Saturday, 10:03 AM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Will Graham.”}

Red flannel and jeans were a pleasant contrast to Hannibal’s dark plum tie and blue suit. Light pleasantries were exchanged before doctor and patient both fell into their usual session turned brunch routines. While Hannibal pulled Tupperware containers and a thermos out, Will carried one of the plush and cumbersome grey chairs from the other side of the room and placed it near the unoccupied side of Lecter’s desk. Hannibal for the first time chuckled freely at the action causing Will to lash out with his sharp tongue, though with considerable less bite than normal. “I do not appreciate being laughed at.”

“I assure you William that I am not laughing at you. I am just amused at the lengths you go through for comfort when there are several other chairs lighter and easier to move than that one in my office.”

Will glared with repulsion at the three rigid chairs behind the mahogany desk as he sank onto the thick charcoal leather. “I’d rather be comfortable when I am eating good food and not having to concentrate on how uncomfortable I am. With no disrespect to your chairs of course.”A humble smile dripped along Hannibal’s lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment to my cooking and not an affront to my choice of furniture.”

After Hannibal divides the plates and silverware between them, the lid of the first container is popped open, releasing a huff of steam and the enticing smell of breakfast. Excitement with a zest of anticipation floods through Will when he leans forward to catch a glimpse before Lecter introduces their meal. What he sees is only made better with Hannibal’s smooth accent. “For today I have a savory quiche in which I utilized a hearty sausage, lacey swiss, and fresh zucchini.” Will admired the thin flakey crust and marveled at the other’s talent. He didn’t even like zucchini, but it didn’t matter, Hannibal could make a dish containing all of Will’s least favorite foods and it would probably be amazing.

A slice was centered on each plate and the lid to the thermos was twisted off. The smell that permeated the air was full and robust but softer than it usually was. “Different coffee?” The thermos was abandoned as Hannibal took his seat, a full head above the other with the difference in chair heights. Lector smiled affectionately down at him. “Yes, it’s Fazenda Santa Inez coffee from Brazil. I noticed you tend to cut the cups I give you with excess cream and sugar so I thought I would experiment with something a little milder for you.”

Will raised the thin cup and took a tentative sip. The pointed bitterness was masked by undercurrents of berries and caramel while still retaining a subtle edge. Will’s softened at the edges, shoulders dipping just a fraction as the warm liquid settled in his stomach. Lector laid a napkin across the lap of his dark blue suit pants, protecting them from any accidents that wouldn’t be occurring. “I am glad to see that my second attempt was successful.” 

“Be careful Doctor Lecter, you’re spoiling me.”

Fingers twitched minutely as Hannibal reached for his silverware. He thought carefully before dropping the infraction, wanting a lighter tone to their brunch. “I am rather fond of spoiling you. It allows me the opportunity to indulge on your compliments.”

Will snorted indignantly into his cup. “You are not nearly vain enough to be talking like that. It ruins the perfect gentleman image you have.” Easy smiles fitted into place at the playful banter. It was strange that the very person Will could feel close to was the type of person he avoided his entire life, for fear of being labeled as something he couldn’t come back from.

“I can’t be a perfect gentleman all the time Will. I am human after all. Now eat up before it gets cold.” Just the hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. One day William will find out just how true that statement was. Across the cherry mahogany surface modest sounds of enjoyment were filtering over from Will with every mouthful. Hannibal was absorbed in the way the fork cut through the thin flakey phyllo dough and left crumbs in Will’s wake; how he ducked his head to meet his fork halfway as if he was too impatient to wait for it. He vaguely wondered if Will was doing it on purpose or if he just naturally exuded such charms.

A series of chimes earned a grumble from Will as he disengaged from his plate and fumbled for his cell. Will regarded the screen for a split second before swiping and pressing it to his ear. “Hello?”

Crawford’s deep voice drifted through and Will flashed an apologetic smile, turning to stand.

The call wouldn’t be put on speaker phone; after all it was a sensitive FBI murder investigation. Luckily for Doctor Lector it didn’t need to be. He had been slowly and methodically turning up the volume on Graham’s phone for weeks. It was just loud enough so that he could eavesdrop on the conversation without Will noticing the change.

“Will, it’s Jack. We analyzed all the paintings in the house and compared them to the one left on the wall. One was a match, but a piece was missing. We went over the place with a fine toothed comb and came up empty. I believe the killer must have taken it. It’s probably the part with his signature.”

“That’s… odd. He didn’t strike me as the type who was capable of having enough forethought to do something like this.”

“Maybe it was an accident. The scrap of canvas clung to his shoe and he accidentally tracked it out and it was just unlucky on our part that the one we needed was the one that was lost.”

“It..It just doesn’t-” Dark chocolate curls were assaulted by Will’s frantic hand.

Hannibal continued eating as if he couldn’t hear all that was being said, carefully watching the boy rip himself apart. “Is there anything I can assist with?” Will turned with a startled expression as if he only just remembered he wasn’t alone. “The murderer removed his name from the crime scene. This isn’t in his behavior. At least it’s not supposed to be.”

It was time for some gentle nudging in the wrong direction. “You said he was dissatisfied with his original piece. He might have been trying to take his signature back from it; disowning it. The work in blood is what the killer’s actually proud of. Try looking for a mark there, a number in the irises or initials in the hair.”

Considering Lecter’s input only took a few brief moments before it was being relayed to Crawford on the other end. Terse goodbyes are meted out and the call is swiftly ended, Will glumly returns to his plate feeling vaguely like he missed something. Hannibal coaxed warmth into a smile, “You needn’t look so glum William, any number of things could have happened that are beyond your control.”

The tines of Will’s fork toy lightly with no real purpose other than to separate the quiche into mounds of its basic components, like a kid with m&m’s. It was obvious he was dwelling too hard on the very thing Hannibal was trying to gloss over. “Will?” All the man received was an acknowledging drawn out syllable in response.

“William.” His tone was firm and Will only glared at the grain of the table to his left, just a hint of petulance staining his face. “It is not healthy for you to be dwelling on this. It won’t allow you to catch the man responsible for these murders any faster and it will run you into the ground. I for one am glad we have these discussions; I would not want to see them turn into sessions.” Hannibal set his utensils down next to his cleared plate, he didn’t want to hurt Will but the young man was getting just a tad too close before Lecter could finish his work. Hannibal externalized a mental sigh and pulled the remaining container open. “If you are done with the main course I have tried something new if you care to be my test subject again.” Will’s curiosity tugged his eyes to Hannibal’s hands. “Grapefruit segments with pomegranate seeds.” He eyed it curiously. By all accounts it looked normal, a light dusting of raw sugar crystals clung to the delicate fruit, dark seeds contrasting with the pale pink of the sour wedges.

Confusion tilted Will’s eyebrows attractively when his thoughts rang with the word _sour_ but his tongue sung with the word _sweet_. “It’s-…but how?” Laughter peeled off Lector, leaning forward minutely to explain. “I soaked the segments for several hours in honey and rosewater. I am happy that it was a success. By the way, you never informed me if you enjoyed the candied almonds I made.”

Will looked sheepish, eyes drifting farther away than normal and the hints of shy embarrassment amused Hannibal more than it should have.

“They were really good.” He felt silly not knowing how to answer the simple question; in truth they had been amazing. The lack of anyone else receiving any unfurled strange feelings in Will’s gut that he had been trying to ignore.

Hannibal easily picked out the meaning between Will’s words, content with the way the young man seemed flustered by his attention. It would make him all the more receptive to the gentle pressure he was exerting on Will’s psyche. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ll have to come up with something equally pleasing for next time.” Will felt pangs of delight seep into his chest, the continuation of presents made the young man feel special in a way he hadn’t felt in a decade.

Hannibal feeds off the way Will seemed to glow at his words and it makes him _crave_.

 

* * *

 

The room is roughly put back to its original state when everything edible has either been eaten or cleared away. The second half of their hour long session is spent chatting. Whether it’s about a case or just mundane things in Will’s life it’s always interjected with personal things pertaining to Doctor Lector as well. It allows the conversation to be a two way street and doesn’t make him feel like he’s being psychoanalyzed.

Hannibal shifts a leg to cross over the other and reclines back. “I recently took to learning a new piece of Tchaikovsky and adapting it for the harpsichord. Have you been dabbling in anything besides your fishing lures?”  He knew the answer but was interested to hear what William was willing to tell him.

A tinge of rose splotched across Will’s cheekbones. “I have been learning a new language, just for fun. It’s obscure and probably not going to be useful for anything but I… I don’t want to say what it is yet, so I will be grateful for you not to pry.” Remnants of his dream from last night flared in his thoughts and flashed across Will’s eyes as he stared at Hannibal’s hands, remembering how they felt on his skin. He had been having these dreams sporadically for a while with increasing intensity. It was mostly just quick glimpses that moved into innocent touches. Chaste presses of lips that more often than not ended just as quickly as they began. The dream from the other night was the first time he surrendered to what was quickly becoming an unrequited crush in his mind. “I-“ A faint chirping silenced whatever thoughts he was going to spill. Only this time the sound was emanating from Doctor Lecter.

Apologizing he pulled it out and checked it once before tucking it back away. It had been a single text with a name and address; inconsequential to anyone but him. The FBI was still miles away and Hannibal had all the time in the world to pay that person a visit. He still needed to choose a suitable recipe after all.

A hint of a smile softened Will’s jaw. He was catching little snippets of a Hannibal that was rarely ever seen, quick moments of peeking behind the curtain. It felt intimate in a way he was steadily enjoying more and more. It was addicting.

The rest of the hour passed by like normal and ended with the weekly clock drawing and pleasant farewells.

* * *

 

{“It’s Saturday, 9:47 PM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Hannibal Lector.”}

Brahms violin concerto Op.77 is blanketing Hannibal’s empty office as he works. A few lamps break up the darkness around him as he goes over reports, making small notes here and there. It had been a long day. After Will had left, the hours seemed to crawl forward at a slug’s pace, slimy and unpleasant with each new arrival into his office.  Will was steadily worming his way into his life, crowding out everything else and consuming his soul just as much as Hannibal wanted to consume his. It was invigorating to have his mind captivated in such a way that he hasn’t felt since his first kill.

The catch of the door handle sharpens Doctor Lecter’s focus back to the room and is greeted with a pleasant surprise.

Will looks like he’s about to topple over, running nearly on autopilot as he blindly stumbles across the room and collapses on the dark grey chaise lounge. He was wearing the same clothes from earlier so it was obvious that this was not sleepwalking. “Will?” The look he receives tells the doctor that Will is somewhere between reality and hallucination. A pleasant middle ground, Will would be aware, but only on the cusp of it, standing on the edge of madness, back facing towards sanity with Hannibal pressed up against him to caress and fold the darkness seeded in him.

A half sob breaks free and his knees climb towards Will’s chest, arms circling round his shins, trying to press himself out of existence. Clothes stuck to his fevered and flushed sweat soaked skin, he looked like the very picture of vulnerability and weakness. It stoked Hannibal’s hunger into an inferno.

“I-I’m….scared.” Will’s voice was chaffed and broken. It made Lecter want to hear the boy cry and scream and moan. He wanted to hear every octave Will was capable of producing and compose all of his favorites into a faultless sonata and play it for Will until he broke apart to pieces. But for now he had to play the caring psychiatrist.

“What has you so terrified?”

Fingers tangled themselves in knotted curls, simultaneously trying to tear himself apart and hold himself together. “The stag, it-…it’s going to hurt me! Please…help.” His face crumpled in pure agony, in a way only someone who is betrayed by their own thoughts can achieve.

Hannibal muttered soothing words, trying to pull Will a centimeter back into coherency. “What makes you so positive it’s trying to hurt you?”

“I don’t know.” The fear was overpowering, but there were wisps of pleasure beneath it. It was nearly impossible for Will to focus on the question, his overheating brain faltering through some semblance of contemplation.

 

Was the Ravenstag trying to hurt him? It had never gave any indication that it was going to harm him so why? Why was he so afraid yet drawn to the creature of darkness? Maybe because the stag was just like him, dark and full of… _potential_. Maybe the black stag wasn’t trying to hurt him at all; maybe it was trying to connect with him. Trying to show affection in the only way it knew how.

“I think…I think…it likes me….and I think I like that.”

Hannibal’s soul thrummed, the word interesting perched on his tongue but he chose different ones. “What do you like about it?”

“Everything.” It comes out as a whisper, his mind reeling with reasons that he can’t keep up with. He loves that such a powerful and intelligent creature is so enamored with him. That at any moment it could gore him and rend the flesh from his bones, but it prefers to be gentle with him, allows him to live when it has so cruelly killed anything else that crosses its path. “Every time it touches me. I feel raw and itchy...like my skin can’t contain what’s trying to break free.” Will’s breathing turns ragged and hitches as he swallows around a moan.

“And why don’t you let it out?”

“Because I’m terrified of what I’ll turn into.”

The desk bore Hannibal’s weight as he leaned forward, a well of possibilities pouring over his mind. “Everyone is fearful of the unknown; it’s not until we make the leap that we can truly know the outcome. You’ll either be dashed across the pavement or someone will be there to catch you.” Regardless of the outcome Hannibal would be there to lovingly stitch him back together.

 

* * *

 

For well over an hour William lay tightly curled up across the room, motionless beyond the rocky rise and fall of his lucidity. Lecter was transfixed to the scene.  A weak groan indicated that Will was receding back into clarity.

“H-Hannibal?” Doctor Lecter parted with his desk to kneel before Will, pressing the inside of his wrist gently to the young man’s clammy forehead. He was still hot but it was getting towards somewhat normal levels. “You sleepwalked here; if you’re ready to go home I can drive you.”

“No!” He seized Hannibal’s wrist. “Please…I can’t go back, it’s waiting for me there.” Lector calmly slid his hand over Will’s, relaxing the other’s bruising grasp on his forearm. “I understand. Come Will, I’ll take you someplace safe.” He worked his arm around Will’s waist, lifting him up and leading the way out to his car.

* * *

 

It was reaching midnight when Hannibal rolled up to his house. The doctor was well practiced in lugging lifeless bodies around so it was an effortless task to get Will from the car into the spare bedroom. He attentively undid Will’s laces and set them aside before tucking him beneath the thick duvet. “I will be just down the hall if you-…” Lector gazed down at Will’s already dozing form before silently stepping out and closing the door.

* * *

 

_Spindly branches tore into Will’s clothes, winding into the fabric and refusing to relinquish their hold. Every time he struggled they constricted tighter, drawing abstract lines across his arms, snagging the buttons of his shirt, and shredding the fabric as he resisted. Panic welled in him. When Will’s mouth opened wide his screams produced no sound and constricted his airways, producing the sensation of drowning._

_Will’s head whipped up when the pale grey light filtering through the mangled trees was blotted out. Pitch black fur and dangerous points made the Ravenstag as beautiful as it was frightening. The stink of death clung to the air, breath after breath that inflated Will’s lungs was heavily coated with it._

_It seemed frozen in place, carefully watching Will as he struggled, neither departing nor coming any closer._

_Green eyes pleaded, but the creature remained adamant._

_Tired and bleeding, he looked towards his fear and surrendered. “ **Help me**.”_

_The obsidian creature stretched and straitened, morphing and configuring, becoming more anthropomorphic before Will’s eyes. Black hands reached towards him. The branches withering and dying, falling away as if the thing’s very body heat was enough to instantly eradicate it._

_The dry bark relinquished its hold, wanting to keep its life rather than keep its victim._

_Will tumbled into outstretched arms, and he felt **liberated**. _

_When he was steady enough to stand on his own two feet Will was released. Looking up he found the creature turning to walk away and he blindly followed._

_Animals fell silent and plants waned when it walked past. Each rhythmic footfall mocked his mounting heartbeat._

_The same wide mouthed cave opened up to him. A spattering of fright had him tripping in the dark to fist his fingers into the stag’s velvety fur. It turned to run warm fingers across his cheek, rinsing the anxiety from his veins._

_Words were useless to them as Will was guided back to that expanse of straw. He freely dropped to the brittle surface, letting himself be pulled into a tender embrace; hands scatting over his tattered shirt, the intermittent brushes of skin against skin whipped a fog in his brain. Glancing down he expected to see the stark contrast of black against white only to see the hands that touched him were pale and strong with hidden power._

_Will was assaulted by recognizable cologne, the scent going straight to his head._

_“Hannibal. Paliesti mane.”_

* * *

 

{“It’s Sunday, 2:19 AM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

Hard heat radiated against Hannibal’s side. It was so inviting to wrap his arms around it and pull it tight to his chest, to twist onto his own side and curl around the solid object. A deep inhale carried an affronting scent that curled heavy arousal straight to his groin. Palms roamed with no real purpose across a firm chest. A whimpered groan surfaced Lecter closer to the realm of the living. Nose pressed firmly into soft hair he breathed out answering noises somewhat between a moan and reassurance. More of that insultingly delectable fragrance assaulted his senses and it clicked startlingly into place.

Lecter drew back as if he was scalded. “Will you shouldn’t be-” He was about to insist Will return to his own room lest Hannibal do something he would about to regret; before he lost control. The way Will turned to him, breathless and flushed confirmed that Hannibal’s words would go unheeded. Lips parted and expelled three little words that brought Lecter to his knees.

“Hannibal... _paliesti mane.”_

**_Hannibal… touch me._ **

Powerful arms supported his weight as Lector hovered over Will, taking in his clouded gaze. “Ne.” His tone was firm as he denied Will’s enticing plea. Hannibal missed the small storm of devastation brewing over Will’s face as he sunk lower. Mouth pressed firmly to cheap flannel, teeth bearing down through the material into the dense flesh and was met with a surprised gasp. Fibers clung to his tongue, tasting faintly of flaked detergent. He worked his way down, ghosting bites along the way and reveling in the sounds Will was freely giving up.

Pointed canines easily popped the button keeping the heavy denim of his jeans pinned shut. The zipper was more difficult to control but it too was conquered. Two fingers worked their way into the loops at Will’s waist and tugged the material down, boxers and all. Hunger darkened Lecter’s irises as the hard cock plopped free. Will was hard and leaking against his shirt, trembling lightly.

Powerful thumbs pressed into the divots of Will’s hips, keeping them confined to allow him to work. Lips brushed tenderly against the underside. Slowly moving over the thick vein and working his way to the tip. Will was hot and silky against his lips. The point of his tongue traced under the flare of his head and was rewarded with a persuasive moan. Hannibal mouthed at the slit and sucked down a pearl of precum, moaning deeply. The taste lived up to his fantasies. His steady control of Will’s diet had been well worth it.

The taste of salt and smoke clung to his tongue as Hannibal’s talented tongue swirled around the hard cock in his mouth, pressing in at every angle he could reach.

Gasps and sighs were dribbling from Will’s open lips, helpless to move his hips into the inviting heat. Sightless fingers travel’s through Hannibal’s flawless hair, pushing back his bangs and creating tangles when Lecter moved his lips just so. A particularly vicious suck had Will choking on expletives between moans.

Hannibal sensed the inevitable and pulled back mere seconds before Will painted his tongue with bitter cum, all of which he gulped down. A thin tear of it dripped from the corner of his mouth which was effortlessly wiped away with the side of his thumb, tongue cleaning up the last of the evidence.

Will was out of breath and boneless when Lecter climbed his way back up the bed to rearrange Will’s pants. He conformed himself to the other’s back, pressing Will back into his chest. “Shhhh, sleep.” He soothed, pressing kisses to the back of Will’s neck as his breathing evened out. It was too late to think about moving and Will’s warmth was too pacifying. It seemed neither one was going to leave this bed tonight. 


	3. First Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will deals with the emotional ramifications of waking up in a place he didn't fall asleep in by the only way he knows how, being an emotional cactus until he forgets about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be carved and roasted with potatoes with how late this chapter was. I didn't even fit everything I wanted to fit into it.

{“It’s Sunday, 6:46 AM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

Unwelcome dismal grey light filtered into Lecter’s bedroom. The bed was inviting and sodden with body heat, and Hannibal had to force himself to build sufficient motivation to get up. He took one last whiff of Will’s hair before disentangling himself from limbs and sheets. A dark blue rob was cinched tightly around his waist, covering his white bedclothes. Will’s trunk rhythmically rose and fell, seemingly submerged deep in sleep. It was likely he wouldn’t stir even if Lecter put him back into the guestroom, but he was curious how the young man would react to waking up in Hannibal’s bed. Will was an infinite curiosity and as much as he wanted to sit and observe Will’s sleeping habits in their entirety, Hannibal thought it would be best not to be present when he awoke.

The doctor meditated on his findings from the previous night as he settled into the daily routine of making coffee. Will was clearly struggling with himself. There is clearly some attraction on his end or else Hannibal wouldn’t keep finding Will in his territories. Will was purposefully seeking him out and wandering closer. It would be intriguing to see what some gentle pressing would do to him. The results would be the same though, Will would break or he would adapt. Hannibal’s course of action would depend on which direction the man would fall.  Forward into the darkness and he would have a partner, a likeminded soul to bend and mold into the perfect predator Hannibal knew he could be; Or Will would tumble back into the light and dash his body against the rocks, drowning in his knowledge and fracturing under the weight of it. Hannibal was dreading the latter; he wanted an intellectually stimulating companion, not an enslaved puppet. It wasn’t about getting Will to kill or even to enjoy it. Lecter already knew both had already happened with Garrett Jacob Hobbs. In order to truly free Will he needed to kill without duress. To spill blood without needing to feel like he has to protect someone. The boy’s darkness was so tightly wound in white that the colors were starting to bleed to grey. All he needed was the right individual to free Will from his morals.

Starting with Will’s aversion to intimacy.  It would be nice to have Will freely allow himself to yearn for another’s touch without being stabbed by guilt.

* * *

 

{“It’s 7:10 AM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Will Graham.”}

Sunlight needled through the Will’s vision when he opened his eyes, producing an annoyed groan. Clumsily he rolled over on his side, molding himself around a pillow that was noticeably too soft instead of its normal stiff chafe. A grumble of confusion was more vibration than coherent words when it was swallowed by the luxurious material. Will inhaled deeply to repeat the noise only to choke and sputter when he realized the usual scent of dog and woods was replaced with spice and old books. Warily lifting his head Will let out a horrified gasp, looking for all the world as if he had just woken up in the middle of a crime scene. Gingerly sweeping his gaze around the room he took in everything he saw to staple together where he was and what had happen. He had sleepwalked, that much was sure. The last thing he remembered was lounging with his dogs on the porch. The room was devoid of pictures, giving him nothing to go on but the very minimal objects that made up the room itself. Dark maroon sheets spoke gentle words of masculinity at him and had Will groaning back into the pillow. He was in a man’s room.

Will rocked himself in a circle and sighed into the feathered pillow, the lack of any obvious pain checked off another one of his worries. He hadn’t slept with anyone. The telltale sign of pain was nonexistent, and Will knew from college experimenting that he preferred being on bottom. Much easier to lay back and take it than the constant worry of feeling like he was disappointing his bedmate. Chancing another glance at the room yielded more data. An older man who had impeccable taste, not Will’s cup of tea, but he could appreciate it. Mortification colored Will a deep red as realization dawned on him. He stuffed his face back into the wine fabric as if he could hide from the facts and magically transport himself back to his house in Wolf Trap. “Why can’t my sleepwalking ever be useful?” He questioned the pillow, irritated with the object’s defiant silence.

Despite Will’s best efforts he couldn’t just curl up into a ball and die. Eventually he would have to go downstairs, he would have to see Doctor Lecter and apologize for things he couldn’t even remember doing. Will wracked his brain, grasping at straw only to come away with a few broken pieces each time. Coarse brittle pieces gave way to snippets and flashes of memory. The feathered black stag that had been haunting him since the Hobbs case churned in his mind, kicking up bits for him to cling to. His recollection burned with scraps of Lithuanian, muscular arms, and the faint feeling of being restrained. A disembodied moan echoed across his thoughts and the lingering color on Will’s cheeks came back with full force.

His clothes were rumbled with sleep but otherwise in order. The ghosts of hands pressed into his hips were most likely from his overactive imagination and touch starved flesh. Nerves glances painted the room before sneakily lowering his face back into the luxurious fabric, indulging in the masculine scent.

The beckoning aroma of coffee had Will awkwardly crawling to the edge of the queen sized bed and braving the stairs; his long term addiction to caffeine winning out over his aversion to facing Doctor Lecter. Coffee brewed to perfection was luring Will in despite his apprehension; the thick fragrance wafting out through the open doorway to the kitchen.

* * *

 

Hannibal caught a tuft of curls in his peripheral and breathed out a sigh with the potential of laughter. Will was obviously forming his own versions of what had occurred during the night, whether they were accurate or not would be deeply intriguing. Doctor Lecter tapped the spigot, filling a delicate china coffee cup with steamy blackness. Creamy milk spread through the cup like ink through water, coloring the liquid an attractive caramel before a single teaspoon of sugar was stirred in. The delicate cup was positioned upon the counter closest to Will, like he was one of the many strays he had tamed.

“I am not an animal to be placated with offerings.” Will’s face darkened by mild offense even as he inched forward to take the fragile cup in hand, letting the warmth seep into his fingertips and enticing him to sip from it.

The raven haired agent was clearly on edge, feeling his core shifting and crumbling as he lost bits of himself beneath Hannibal’s careful chisel, tapping at Will as if he was a block of marble. He could feel Hannibal working just beyond his peripherals, lightly plucking at spider thin threads to test out the vibrations.

Uneasiness wafted off Will, mirroring the soft steam rising from the cup clutched tightly in his hands, as if it would anchor him through the earthquakes of his thoughts.

Lecter lifted his own cup to settle against his lips, mulling over his answer before lacing the words together.

“I am not placating you. I am merely offering comfort to a friend who arrived at my office in the late hours of the night in a delirium.” Hannibal’s words pouring over the brim of white china. The even tone speaking volumes to Will; anyone else would see a simple statement of facts, but he noticed the sure ended syllables. The slight edge of annoyed tolerance. Will’s rude comment being filed away and not forgiven or forgotten.

Will turned the delicate coffee cup 180 degrees in his grip, glaring stubbornly at a cabinet. “I was not in a delirium. I may have been sleepwalking.” The hesitation etched along the underside of his words. Hannibal didn’t miss it, nor did he miss the delicate dusting of pink working its way along Will’s cheeks. Clearly Will remembered at least a little of what had happened and was obviously fishing for more details.

That word _interesting_ whispered around Hannibal’s thoughts again as he contemplated his next moves. He desired to know just how much Will remembered from the pleasures he stole during their midnight trysts; whether or not the young man was mortified or secretly curious to explore further. Another sip of the dark brew preceded Hannibal’s reply. “You seemed more cognizant than your normal sleepwalking state and appeared to have a mild fever. I brought you to my residence to administer a low dose of Acetaminophen. I trust your fever has gone down.” Lecter smothered his satisfaction in all the professionalism of a doctor.

 Uncomfortable guilt was thickly plastered into the corners of Will’s eyes and mouth, carved plain as day for Hannibal to revel in. Will’s cards tipped to anyone who cared to peek at and gain the upper hand.

A touch of laughter lit Hannibal’s pupils touching finely into his speak. “You seemed intent on kicking me from my bed despite the desirability of my guest room. I am almost certain that you are finding my choice of furniture offensive.”

Eyebrows knitted together in stunning contrast to the radiant smile Will gave him. “The guest bed must be too hard compared to yours.” The restlessness peeling off him in thick layers as he sipped at the dark brew nestled against his palm.

Will leaned against a counter, losing himself in the lazy morning, only just now realizing Hannibal was already fully dressed and ready for the day as if the man had never even slept. He had never been a morning person despite being a chronic insomniac and loathed people who could just roll out of bed and exist as if it was late afternoon. Will glared at the crisp lines running down Hannibal’s long legs and silently wished to sully the man, spill something on him and ruin the immaculate image he flaunted so early in the morning. A thrill trickled down Will’s spine at the mere image of riling the emotional wall that was Hannibal Lecter.

The action did not escape the doctor’s observation. The way Will shifted to his left ever so slightly to turn against the counter, his hip bumping into the surface as he drowned several unsavory thoughts in caffeine and Hannibal was free to stare. Will’s strict distaste of eye contact did come with its advantages. Burgundy eyes lingered over Will’s face, seeking out the stormy blue he would have to work hard at to get to look back.

 

A distant ringing forced its way through the comfortable silence putting an abrupt end to their pleasant morning. Hannibal exited past Will, brushing his shoulder with his own in semblance of an accident as he worked his way down the hall to his home den.

Hannibal’s den bore a striking resemblance to his office. The walls nearly papered with tall bookshelves baring books ranging from antique to freshly bought. A cordless phone was plucked from its place on a heavy oak desk set near a grand fireplace.

Fingers played along the spines, not surprised to see that a majority of the titles were foreign to the point of unintelligible, not even trying to harbor a guess at how to pronounce them. Giddy flickers lit up Will’s face as he picked up an old book in a language he was trying hard to learn for reasons that ran deeper than he was going to admit. He stole the book away from its proper place and settled himself into a forest green lounge chair, cracking open the spine to somewhere in the middle.

Lecter pressed the phone to the side of his head and prompting the person on the other line to speak. Carefully guarded regret erupted behind Hannibal’s mask when Crawford loudly projected into his ear. Hannibal eased the phone off his ear while Jack spouted on.

“Doctor Lecter! Will is not answering his phone and no one has been able to contact him. Alana went by his house and all his dogs were running rampant over his property. So he’s been home but isn’t there now. You’re his therapist you must have some idea of where he could have gone.” Jack’s angry barking was putting a damper on what had been such a lovely start to the day.

Hannibal nudged the silver scalpel resting parallel to a pencil. “I am first and foremost William’s friend before I am his therapist.” Undercurrents of abhorrence for the man on the other end of the line went unnoticed. “May I inquire why you are looking for him so early in the morning?” Lecter had an idea as to the nature of the call, but preferred not to make unnecessary assumptions.

There was a long pause as Jack debated whether or not to disclose information.

“There’s been another body and we need him on the Family Portrait case. Now can you help me or not?” Crawford ground out.

His eyes lingered over Will’s curled up form, his profile intently focused on the leather bound copy of Dainavos šalies senų žmonių padavimai.

“You needn’t worry about Will, he’s safe. He had walked to my office in his sleep late last night and I thought it would be best to keep an eye on him through the night to prevent any unfortunate mishaps. William is currently getting some much needed rest, he’s been pushed too hard and I fear that this symptom may worsen.” The lie was easily cloaked in truth and flowed easily off Hannibal’s tongue, knowing that Crawford would readily sacrifice Will’s mental health to save undeserving lives.

Jack snapped, his voice rising in undeserved authority. “Well get him out of bed, I need him down here A.S.A.P!”

“I will be sure to have him there as soon as time allows it.” Hannibal was warmly cordial, but his insides were boiling with dignified rage and positively seething when he replaces the phone on the dock. He’ll let Jack Crawford continue to make an ostentatious ass out of himself, it’ll make it all the sweeter when he pays the man a visit in the dead of night. The man didn’t deserve to have an agent as special as Will Graham. Jack didn’t deserve to play with toys he wasn’t willing to take care of. It would be so suiting to have the toy turn on its master. Maybe it could even be their first kill together. Lecter lost himself of daydreams of blood, fear and Will, the corners of his mouth rising high into the realm of true elation.

The hardwood floor couldn’t mask the sound of Hannibal’s footsteps so that when the doctor settled behind Will to ease an assured palm along his shoulder, the young man hardly flinched at all.

“Please excuse the rudeness, but it seems Jack requires your urgent assistance.” Hannibal let his hand linger, brushing his thumb ever so slightly against the other’s neck to feel the subtle quake he created. “Our destination is quite a distance and there is no time to drop by your residence for a change of clothing so I hope you do not mind borrowing something of mine.” There was no room for argument even though Doctor Lecter’s words were arranged like a courteous question. Dark pupils roved over William’s choice of book while the other murmured his agreeance. “William, I wasn’t aware you knew Lithuanian.” Hannibal’s words dripped with the restrained smile that refused to touch his features, his exhilaration masked as feigned indifference.

Will frayed at the edges, his embarrassment flaring across his cheeks when he comprehended the emotions Hannibal was smothering but just couldn’t put out; like wisps of smoke escaping under a fire blanket. “I guess the secret’s out. I’ve been dabbling, just a little. I hope you don’t mind that I looked into it, I thought that you know….” Will was struggling with finding the right words to convey his thoughts only to have his tongue running in incomprehensible circles. The book was sharply closed to give him a few extra minutes of rapidly failing thoughts. “I thought that you might want to enjoy having a few conversations in your native language.” A small noncommittal shrug rippled off Will’s frame, gingerly handing the book back. “I’m still a ways off from engaging you in anything other than mediocre conversation, but Aš esu bando geriau.”

His pronunciation was atrocious but the attempt was endearing enough for Hannibal’s practiced smile to hold true warmth. “Yes, I can see you are trying. How long have you been practicing?” Will’s right hand carded through his dark bangs as he confessed, “Months actually. Started after our fourth session maybe? I’m still not very good.” He had been curious about the immaculately composed doctor’s mysterious accent and decided to look into it on a whim. Hours had been spent in front of his laptop listening to hundreds of people from all over the world enunciating broken English before Will found one that seemed the closest. It wasn’t long after that the thought to learn it wormed its way into his brain.

A dark chuckle churned in Will’s throat, he was never prone to impulses like that, sure he couldn’t resist taking in a stray but that was different. Doctor Lecter wasn’t a stray or someone to be mollified by random kindness for some wrong Will felt like he committed. Will had done it purely out of wanting to make the chilly man warm up to his company. Hannibal constantly referred to William as his friend, but no matter what Will felt like he was still being held at arm’s length. Fingertips brushing over his body but never lingering long enough to leave warmth; never hard enough to assure Will that he was there. Being caught in the middle between acquaintance and friend was pushing the young man to test his boundaries, to see if Hannibal would sway further into one or the other.

Lecter scrutinized the worn cover of the thin book. It was old and well read, a book of folklore and tales from his country. One of the few that had ties to his past, a single name filtering through to the surface only to be sharply tamped down, abruptly turning to avoid Will catching even a hint of the emotion steam that was escaping his stone mask. Dexterous fingers replaced the book upon its shelf. “You are learning, it is expected of you to still be rough. If you like, I could give you lessons.”

Will couldn’t hold in the huffs of laughter, a darkly stubbled cheek scrapping against his palm as he tried to stifle his laughter. “Sorry, sorry. I just got the most perfect image of you standing over me doing worksheets as if I was back in prep school.” A hand rose into the air, a large smile splitting Will’s lips. “Mr. Lecter I have a question. Teacher I don’t understand this part.” His voice rising about a half dozen octaves, trying to imitate someone who was much younger.

Delicious fantasies of a half naked teenage Will pressed against a chalkboard threatened Hannibal’s impeccable control. Wide eyes brimmed with tears staring into his as Hannibal bent a younger Will over his desk, marking his behind red with a ruler in retaliation to a particularly rude comment, crying out so sweetly every time the stiff wood connected with his abused flesh. Lecter could steady his breathing, but the dilated pupils gave away his provocative thoughts. It was one of the few times he was grateful William avoided eye contact.

“You say that, but I cannot imagine you any other way than being the ideal student. Quick to learn and wary to make a commotion. If you are open to it I am more than willing to properly teach you my mother tongue.” Double entendre naturally slipping into place, the small smile from his private joke easily dismissed.

The agent found himself easily saying yes to the offering. It would be a unique experience to get private lessons from someone who seemed like such an intelligent individual. Like getting help on a science project from Nikola Tesla. “As much as I would love to stand around and talk about my mediocre Lithuanian skills, we should probably get going. Jack is probably clawing himself up a wall waiting for us.”

                                                                  

* * *

 

The luxurious shirt laid out for him mocked Will with its brazen design. Blue faded from cobalt to pale desert sky, broken up by slender pinstriped that fade in the opposite direction from deep forest to freshly picked white tea. He knew the color would compliment his eyes perfectly and for some reason that made Will even more wary as he picked it up, revealing a pair of nice black slacks folded neatly under it.

Brisk footfalls signaled Hannibal’s return with Will’s shoes, slowing to set them into his outstretched hand before speaking. “I apologize in advance if anything does not fit. If I had more warning I would have gotten something in your size.” The outright lie slid easily of Lecter’s forked tongue as if it were truth. In fact he had several things in William’s size that included a tailored suit that was guaranteed to fit the young man better than his own skin. However the good doctor wanted to see Will in his clothes. Like Hannibal was crudely scrawling the word **_Mine_** in sloppy calligraphy across the man’s body. It brought a sickeningly perfect boil of possessiveness through his chest. The urge to carve his name into Will’s back and lick the wound closed till it scarred was roughly tossed aside when Hannibal noticed he had been lingering for too long. “I’ll prepare something for you to eat in the car. Meet me in the kitchen when you are finished.”

Will watched Lecter’s retreating back, only tossing the shirt in his hands to the bed when the door clicked closed behind him. Nerves erupted forth as he worked at the buttons keeping his own shirt closed. It took his fumbling fingers longer than he care to admit to get the flannel from his core and toss to the floor, contemplating it in before snatching it back up and throwing it on the bed.

Wrapping the almost silk shirt around his shoulders Will felt a shiver trip down his spine that he couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason for, quickly doing up the small black buttons. The onyx pants caught his attention and Will considered them for a long while before leaving them where they lay. He already felt overly dressed for a crime scene without looking like he was borrowing his father’s clothes for a wedding.

He turned to the decorative mirror against the opposite wall, the thick wooden frame reflecting him until mid thigh.

 “I look weird.” Will grumbled as he fiddled with his appearance. The young man exuded awkwardness, feeling like his own body was clashing with the fabric he was shrouded in. His own chest was surprisingly less broad than Hannibal’s and Will couldn’t help but fiddle with the seams that feel under his shoulder instead of across it and the sleeves stopped just below the web of his thumb, giving him the appearance of being smaller than he actually was. It was irritating and oddly comforting at the same time and forced a sharp click off his tongue.

Tucking and untucking the dark blue hem into the waistband of his jeans several times, looking increasingly annoyed with himself with each round. “Fine, I’ll just look stupid then.” The hem was tugged free and stayed loose. With a fuck it attitude the sleeves were rolled to the middle of his forearm and the top two buttons popped free.

* * *

 

Hannibal just finished sliding the protein scramble into a container when Will grabbed his attention from across the room. The young man looking artfully tussled. Hair hung in messy curls against his forehead and sealed the just rolled out of bed look that made him look amazingly attractive.

“I took the liberty of brewing you another batch of coffee.” He held up the thermos and Will faked a sob. “You are a godsend.” Will was close to spouting love declarations to the sexy looking cylinder as he held up his hands and breathed out a syllable of a laugh.

Lecter softly glowed at the unintentional praise, handing both items over. “William, wait by the car while I lock up, I’ll join you shortly.” A short nod was the only thing he got in approval as Will crossed the kitchen and disappeared.

A firm palm pressed across the tent marring the flat line of his pants that had been thankfully concealed by the wooden chopping block. An unvoiced moan was deadened in the back of Hannibal’s throat. His other hand gripping the hard wooden corner and pressing it punishingly into his wrist. There was not enough time to deal with the pesky reaction in the pleasurable way. He would get to enjoy the stimulating sculpture that Will made later, when they were done indulging the dead.

Adjusting himself so the obscene bulge was no longer visible, Hannibal grabbed his keys and locked the house, joining Will in the car.

Will was already digging into his breakfast before the car even pulled into the street.

“William, you don’t have to inhale your food, we have a three hour drive ahead of us.” Will considered Hannibal with the fork still hanging from his mouth. A sharp shake of his head held the driver off while Will chewed and swallowed. “I could do that…or I could eat it while it’s hot. Food is always better hot.” Hannibal turned left and headed towards Columbia Maryland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My future is going to be filled with lots of doctors appointments with a chance of being sick and tired all day, but I won't depress you with my life. I want you to be happy and maybe aroused after you read my chapters.


	4. Second Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will admires the painter killer's talent, something Hannibal is not fond of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the severe lateness. Chemo sucks and I am apparently allergic to my nausea medicine. Blurry vision so bad I couldn't even see my keyboard for days, plus lockjaw. I'm just drowning in buckets of fun over here. But the FanFiction, she will PREVAIL!.  
> Due to how late this chapter is it's not beta read, but it will be and re-uploaded in the future, so forgive any mistakes on my part. Enjoy.

{“It’s Sunday 8:10 AM, I’m in Ellicott City, Maryland, and my name is a mystery.”}

Canisters, buckets, brushes, and canvas crowded every possible surface in the industrial warehouse turned loft. The frigid concrete was carpeted in spilled paint, technicolored splotches spreading from wall to wall. The only table in the place was taken over by pictures. Stacks and piles sorted through into sections. Everything slotted into place according to family member. Two six inch wooden sketch mannequins flanked identical four inch ones. Their poseable limbs forced into positions identical to a crisp sheet of paper laid out in front of it. Each rough draft would be filed away as mementos of the finished mural that couldn’t be moved.

A man rivaling one of Will’s beloved strays stood hunched over a bulky metal sink. The water pouring from the faucet running pink as soon as it filtered through the wide brush he was holding. Stained fingers that came from decades of chemical abuse from thinners, oils, and dyes worked the brush clean, scrubbing red out of the wood grain and taking care not to break the bristles. Once sharp green eyes deemed the brush free of color he snatched up several more from the bottom of the sink and set them on a stained towel to dry.

Wet hands flattened two inches of honey blonde hair back. A too small black t-shirt covered a visible ribcage. An inch of flat stomach separated between the black hem and paint splattered jeans while equally messy converse were the only thing separating his bare feet from the cold floor.

A wiry arm concealing strength swept across the table, dumping and scattering the pictures off the surface, the hundreds of snapshots no longer needed. The four sketches carefully set aside as a newspaper replaced the unoccupied space and roughly flipped to page 14. Dark curls and tired eyes stared back at him.

**Psychopath Will Graham charging after Family Portrait Killer**

The title was printed in bold above a snapshot of a crimescene. Scissors snipped loudly around the edges of the lengthy article by Freddie Lounds; mostly bashing of the agent coming after him and speculations on her part than of any real fact but it had what none of the other articles had: A picture of his masterpiece. A fat glue stick was stabbed into each corner of the thin paper and neatly squared away with the rough drafts. The back of a hand was swiped across a freckled cheek before picking up a black pen and scrawling the name Liam Evans in flowing cursive. “Come find me Mr.Graham. Make the whole world recognize my talent.”

 All he had to do now was start planning his third murder while he waited. Waited for the next round of articles documenting his second masterpiece and waited for the FBI to launch him into fame.

* * *

 

{“It’s Sunday, 11:11 AM, I’m in Columbia, Maryland and my name is Will Graham.”}

Flashing lights and yellow police tape greet the black Bently when it rolls up. The car was modern and inconspicuous enough that it was easily forgotten and blended into the background while still catering to Hannibal’s specific _needs_.

The large crowd interested in what was so obviously a murder scene hovered just at the perimeters in hope of catching something gruesome. Their morbidly curious faces caught between the red bricked house and the new arrivals on the scene. Some strayed to the car while others seemed to be glued to the windows and door as if any moment there would be a dead body.

A hand flew to his breast pocket to retrieve his glasses and was harshly pulled back the instant it connected with unfamiliar fabric; already forgetting that he was wearing another man’s shirt. Will didn’t even need to look up to see the questioning look written all over Doctor Lecter’s position. “Don’t even ask.” The words being gruffly thrown into the car’s cabin before Will slammed the door open with more force than necessary and quickly barreled through the onlookers. Gaze set firmly on the floor to watch the sets of feet part ahead of him, lest they be rudely run into by Will’s apparent lack of fucks given.

He was hardly onto the front lawn when Crawford was bearing down on him. “Where have you been?! I’ve been sitting on this crimescene for hours waiting for your ass to pick up the phone and I-…” Jack’s sentence seemed to disintegrate in his mouth when he got close enough to the other to notice Will’s lack of plaid. Confusion was plastered all over Jack’s features and was yelling at Will more than the actual shouting had been. Heat radiated off his cheeks as a self-conscious hand rubbed at the material. “Don’t you look at me like that. Whatever you think happened didn’t so if I hear anything about it I’ll fucking quit and you can find someone else to fill in for your incompetence.” Crawford’s looked as if he had just been smacked but even someone as blunt as Jack could tell Will’s fuse was on the short end that morning.

With a hand held up in rare defeat Jack led him inside; a little humility a necessary sacrifice for a complacent William. The quicker they got this done the sooner the bodies could be sent to the morgue for trace analysis and hopefully more leads than they already had. Will barely acknowledged the men in blue as Jack paraded him past; Will’s shadow of a psychiatrist was not far behind, carefully monitoring the experiment he set into play.

* * *

 

Bodies were lined along the table like gutted fish; belly up and heads thrown back in a grotesque display. Throats cut widely open like gaping mouths dripped molasses onto the beige carpet, a bucket of thick concealed blood not far away. The living room was devoid of the devastation from the precious murder, the framed pictures neatly leaning against an opposite wall instead of broken and torn to shreds. But Will ignored the room in favor of the large expanse of pale blue delicately brushed with dark crimson. Three figures were laid out on a checkered blanket, mirror images of the three bodies on the table, except they looked more alive than any of the pictures still hanging up on the three remaining walls.

Will stood transfixed upon the bloody portrait as time slipped around him, Jack ushering the bystanders out the door with angry bellows of half threatened violence. However Hannibal stood his ground, preferring to watch the young agent wield his talent than to just absorb the aftermath of it, like listening to the echos of a great symphony instead of the true sounds the instruments produced. He settled into a corner, out of the way of William’s psychic reach, blending in with the background as if he was merely a framed picture, easily forgotten and overlooked by the other’s pure empathy.

* * *

 

_“I didn’t paint this family beforehand, I didn’t need to. I wanted to get it right on the first try. I watched them just like the first, took pictures and captured every moment of joy. This family contains so much love. It will be easy for me to immortalize them, make them the perfect mural of happiness._

_There is no alarm; the front sticker may fool the common burglar, but not me, never me. It is well past midnight when I pick the front door lock and slip inside. Everyone is in their beds, sleepy children not far from mom and dad._

_Two beds decorate the garishly pick room, only one containing any warmth with two small bodies curled into each other. Beautiful symmetry that will be such a challenge to replicate, I chose them to test my skills. I plan to ace it with flying colors._

_It takes little effort for me to squeeze the air from their lungs and force the chloroform in. Bodies limp I move on the harder materials._

_Mother is easily put down, she sleeps through the whole process, it’s empowering to feel her slip into unconsciousness. Father however is more of a challenge. Waking up in the middle is a naughty thing to do. But a blow to the head brings him down; I press the cloth to his mouth just in case he stirs before I am ready._

_Family is once again reunited in the living room. Delicate undersides up, heads lolled off the surface to give me better access to their necks. The soft flesh giving easily beneath my sharp blade, bright red splashing across myself and the floor before gushing heavily into the hollow bucket. It’s a necessary sacrifice, but it’s the only way to get so much **life** into the paint. _

_I whirl around with a conceited grandeur as I face my canvas. The master artist about to paint another masterpiece, vacant eyes watching over me, judging any mistakes by brush could make, luckily though I will not make any._

_Thin bristles dip into the warm gore, nearly steaming in the lightly chilled room as I drag my arm in sweeping arcs across the wall. I paint them how they always were in life, laughing and together. This is my design.”_

_Blood drips down a light blue sleeve, scaring the expensive fabric and instantly recoils, agonizing ripples of guilt mare his surface at ruining the borrowed cloth. A feeling more than anything of black antlers poised at his back has him dripping more of the red substance across the fine cotton in silent provocation. Sharp points press punishingly into his back and has him fumbling over his lines, more focused on what was going on behind him than on his hands._

* * *

 

Will has to catch himself from leaning into the evidence, his hand poised just over a bloody picnic basket in the painting. Hannibal stayed still, enjoying the way Will was picked apart at the edges, clearly off in his rendition of the crime. He watched fingers toy at a sleeve for the briefest of moments and one of his own seams twitched with a mild gloat.  It was wonderful to know that he was the reason for Will’s distraction.

Hannibal only moved to let the useless part of the team enter now that William was done analyzing their killer’s newest piece.

Brian Zeller was first to burst into the room much to Hannibal’s concealed annoyance; His misinformed and erroneous statements preceding his arrogant demeanor as usual. “It’s a copycat, has to be. Look at the lack of blatant destruction the first murder had, plus the family here is painted together while the other was painted doing separate activities.”

Looking tired and not wanting to suffer at the hands of idiots Will exhaled loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face while Zeller looked on with chagrin. “Crime scenes are like fingerprints. No two are alike even when they are connected to the same hand. They all have subtle differences. He’s not escalating like we would think of a normal sociopath.” Delicate fingers ghosted along thick brushstrokes of interwoven fabric. “He is perfecting his art. He wants to be found, he wants to be praised for how magnificent his work is. So he can take credit for it.”

Beverly however was fixed on Will’s shirt, or lack thereof. The usual plaid and rough looking material was replaced with soft pinstripes and a glance over at Hannibal’s equally matching suit spoke volumes. Only a few syllables escaped before the rest were choked down with glares from Jack, already knowing what turn her words were taking. That alone was enough to solidify whatever inklings were brewing in her head, a knowing smile was spread on her lips and quickly smothered.

Zeller stomped towards the pictures leaning against the wall, wildly gesturing at them.“If you are so sure this is the same killer then why didn’t he destroy everything in a frame then?”

“Because he got it right the first time, there was no reason for him to be angry here, only an artist getting the best from his… _materials_.” Will spoke without even turning around, as if he was speaking to the very painting itself, but the way he said the last word had Hannibal oddly keyed up. As if the darker side of the young man’s subconscious was starting to blot like ink on wet paper and he was the only one who could see it. But a darker edge slit through him, needling at his enjoyment. The subject was all wrong. Will needed to be reminded who he belonged to, who he was bred and groomed to catch up to whether he knew it or not.

* * *

 

{“It’s Monday, 1:13 AM, I’m in Elkridge, Maryland and my name is Christopher Ward.”}

The world slowly focuses from blurry grays to bleary white as Christopher Ward was dragged into the realm of consciousness; a slow steady tapping against his cheek beating cold clarity into him when he tried to move but couldn’t.

“Good morning Mr. Ward.” Unfocused eyes traveled to the stranger standing over him and blanched at the cold and even stare he received, clear intent glaring at him with the situation.

Hannibal was dressed to impress tonight, his usual finely eccentric patterned suit wrapped in slick plastic from collar to sole. Piano blended with violin melted through the silence, stirring up the silent air and offsetting the deadly array of instruments lined up at the ready under the pooled spotlight.

Nimble fingers played across his confined chest, feeling the stiff plate underneath and Christopher was violently aware of how vulnerable he was, exposed and trapped.

“Do you believe in a higher power Christopher?” The thin steel scalpel was set into its proper place between his expert digits and pressed with a practiced ease to the seam where shoulder met bicep. Not drawing blood but the attention he desired.

Ward held up a pleading gaze and found no mercy, only cool indifference. “W-Why? Why are you doing this?!” The shout cut perfectly against the sweet notes.

The point pressed in harder, drawing a welt of blood that slowly oozed down to the cold surgical table. “Do you recollect a phone call seven months ago? I phoned into your company and-“ “What?! You mean the IT gig? I don’t even work there anymoARGH!” Hannibal silenced the impolite disruption with a harsh dig into thick muscle. “If you would please refrain from interrupting.” It wasn’t a question but a promise of unnecessary violence if it continued.

Hannibal continued on as if he hadn’t just torn into the man’s bicep. “Seven months ago I phoned into your company and you were very discourteous to me on the phone. I am simply remedying your purpose in life with a new one.”

The man’s pulse was quickened with fear, but even still he waited till the other was clearly finished before lashing out with beseeching words. “But I don’t work there anymore; I’m sorry please don’t do this!”

Hannibal eased off the blade and a river of red followed. “Regardless of the time, place, and working status; rude is rude and it must be remedied.”

Talented wrists flicked the efficiently sliced the thick muscle free, carving out a wide gouge to the bone were there was a masculine shoulder once perched. Slicing in tune to the music so each sound he tore from the meat settled nicely on his ears. “I have a mongoose in need of such a remedy. He seems to have lost his true purpose.”

* * *

 

{“It’s Monday, 7:45 AM, I’m in Wolf Trap, Virginia and my name is Will Graham.”}

Paws and cold noses wakes Will up like clockwork. Wagging tails and searching maws eager to start the day as well as breakfast. He is all but harassed out of bed, the lone spotted outlier the only one behaving.

Will pats his head on the way to the kitchen. “Good boy Winston.” The coffee machine is the first thing checked off of his blissfully short list, the hefty bag of dry food is the next thing that is attended to.

A cup is upturned into seven bowls and seven hungry snouts dig in while Will sips at his own disappointing cup of crap coffee. A taste he didn’t mind once and even enjoyed was starting to wear him down. He really was getting accustomed to the life Hannibal was spoiling him with.

Still clad in underclothes turned sleepwear Will’s high body temperature kept him warm enough to not need much else to enjoy the brisk morning air along with his dogs. A couple of tennis balls were the only preparation he needed to release them upon his isolated property. Bodies and fur bolted past his legs, nearly knocking him over in their rush to start playing, he barely got to the edge of the porch when a bright ball was hurled out to where nature met house, disappearing into the tall grass with six dogs quickly following.

The second ball was tossed to his right, Winston snapping it into his jaws tight refusing to leave Will’s side even for a moment. He felt at peace. It brought out Will’s true smile like no other person could; well, almost no one.

A miasma of fevered barking had Will turning to the other dogs in confusion. No one was returning with the ball and his heart dropped. Ice chilled his core as Will ran to them firmly telling Winston to stay. The rough edged grass scratched at his exposed shins and thighs, the thin undershirt and grey boxers offering little protection.

A sharp whistle had the dogs whining but still no one came to him.

Will hoped whatever was plaguing the animals was in his head. That he would repeat his magic phrase Hannibal gave him and time would slip the dogs safe and sound around him with slobbery tongues and wagging tales.

Will threw a look towards his watch and shouted the time, place, and name to the barking floating to him on the breeze, still nothing.

Following the panicked sounds brought Will to the commotion and a small clearing.

Grass was flattened out in a wide circle around a grizzly scene. Will turned around and emptied his stomach, bile and bitter coffee burned at his throat with the image behind him burned deeply into his retinas.

The other man’s terror and pain was searing into Will’s psyche, transferring over as if it was his own and he was doubled over and retching up the bottom of his empty stomach. The low whines of the dogs comforting and just on the edge of fear themselves sounded as far away as he felt.

Arms circled around, trying to hold himself from shaking apart but it didn’t seem to be working. The disfigured body was shoving itself off its mounting, pulling itself free of the 8 points gored through arms and thighs alike. Arms were being lifted by shoulders that were no longer there, stretching out to embrace a hyperventilating Will Graham. Mouth opened and issued noise that shouldn’t exist, due more to the lack of tongue then the clear hallucination that Will was gripped in.

“Open me.” Trembling fingers obeyed. Tugging at the loosely knotted bow of fine silk, the long expensive scarf peeling away obsession for him as it dropped to the floor.

Black antlers pierced through them, pinning Will to another nightmare that he couldn't escape from. Like a butterfly under a microscope he couldn't break free from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal the cat, leaving cute little murder presents for Will. Traumatizing the poor man. Sorry Will.


	5. First Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets an omelette with a side order of complicated feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want Abigail interfering with Hannibal and Will's relationship, so she's in a coma forever.

{“It’s Monday, 9:45 AM, I’m in Wolf Trap, Virginia and my name is Will Graham.”}

Men In blue swarm around like bees, cordoning off the area and dressing up the scene in garish yellow. The man with the little cue cards for clues was looking lost with nothing standing out to take note of, and he wouldn’t find anything either. This sadistic psychopath was too intelligent to leave evidence behind; they would find only what the killer wanted to be found and nothing more.

Hands scrubbed at forgotten stubble, relishing in the light burn against his palms to distract from the pounding in his skull as Jack yelled words he had already spouted a half dozen different ways. “I thought you said he wouldn’t kill like this again!”

Hannibal could feel the pain and exhaustion emanating from Will’s dismal form. However, there was no way he could interfere without drawing negative attention so he remained silent, content to watch over the action and to see the aftermath of his performance, see his favorite performer at play.

A heavy sigh was muffled by the hands over Will’s face as they crept over eye sockets to try and mash the pain from behind his lids as he repeated himself again for Jack’s ungrateful benefit. “He shouldn’t have.” Not a beat later Jack bellowed, “Then why is he repeating himself!”

Will’s voice rose with his dwindling patience. “He isn’t repeating himself; the first was a note to Hobbs, a job well done. This-“ He tossed a hand in the direction of the impaled corpse to reiterate his point, “is different, this is an elegant letter.”

Crawford held his ground, not understanding what Will was so plainly pointing out. “Is he taunting us for not being able to capture him?”

“No, he’s not arrogant like that. There’s sentiment here, it’s personal.” Will maneuvered around to the head of the body. “It’s almost like a gift. But why leave it here? What’s he getting at?” Hazel green eyes squinted through pin pricks to try and read the elegant cursive penned in blood while Hannibal looked on, urging him to read between the lines. His William was smart enough to figure it out; he just needed a few seconds, a guiding flare to lure him in the right direction.

Realization dawned over Will’s face, steaming over the wrinkles of confusion and frustration marring his sleep deprived features. Hannibal’s mask confined the sweet satisfaction he had for his pet.

Comprehension melted into disgust and horror and Hannibal was grateful Will’s attention was drawn elsewhere in case the satisfaction was seeping through the seams of his person suit.

“It’s for me. The killer left it for me. He used the same stationary to get my attention.” He backed away, unable to look at the gift wrapped corpse while Jack barked confused questions he was unable to hear. “Almost like he’s jealous or annoyed that my attention is elsewhere. He’s mad…no…upset that I forgot about him. It’s a gentle reminder that he’s still out there and waiting for me.”

Jack took up Will’s view, setting his large frame in front of the slight man to forcefully grab his attention. Hannibal wanted to snap the man’s neck for the close proximity to his obsession but it would be ill-advised with this many witnesses so Lecter had to settle for silently seething at the blatant display Crawford was making.

“Why would he want us to catch him?” Will’s brain throbbed at the unnecessary loudness and had to take a deep calming breath to keep himself from snapping back. Any conflict now would just make the charade last longer than necessary and Will wanted all the intruders on his front yard gone as swiftly as possible. “No, just me. He only wants me to find him.”

“Are you telling me this psychopath is after you?” Jack whipped to the crowd pointedly ignoring him and made a few weak souls cringe as his anger was turned towards them. “I want a security detail on this house yesterday!”

Holding up a hand Will spit out his rejection, more people would just make the wasps in his head buzz louder. All he wanted at the moment was some peace and quiet with his dogs. “That won’t be necessary. He’s too intelligent for that. He doesn’t want to come after me, he wants me to go willingly to him.” Something more was just under the surface, something Will was just beyond grasping distance with the pain fogging his thoughts. Like the killer wanted to entice Will into finding him, not so he could kill him, and not because he wanted to be caught. It was all about him somehow, but there was still something Will was missing. Something he wasn’t thinking of.

Hannibal stayed to the background, delighted that his William was so in tuned to his true thoughts. It stoked him in ways he never thought he could feel.

* * *

 

The body was well on its way to the morgue, but bodies still lingered, collecting samples and data while Will looked on from his chair on the porch. Winston was between his legs, head on Will’s thigh as he drowned in exhaustion.

A creak had both heads turning up at the noise but Will’s apprehension for further human conversation was extinguished at the sight of a paisley tie and confident posture.

Will visibly relaxed into the wooden chair. “I thought you had left with the rest of the team.”

Hannibal bent to pat sandy fur, running a soft ear through his fingers and earning a lick from the Will’s best friend. “I am your friend Will; I would never leave without saying goodbye. It would be rude.”

Will leaned heavily into the chair, a sadly soft noise floated off him as Hannibal slid against the back of the chair.

“Your sanctuary has been invaded, I would not think less of you if you wished me to leave.” A warm palm crept over Will’s shoulder, feeling the dew moistened fabric and the fevered skin just beneath it.

Confusion and uncertainty surfaced on Will’s face at the comment, his head tipping back into ironed cloth, letting the firm body behind him take the full weight of it. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

The pad of a thumb brushed over where shirt became skin, climbing up Will’s neck and relishing in the way his head tilted to give the doctor further access. Whether Will was aware of his actions or not, it was a sign of progress that tested Hannibal’s control. The thumb rubbed in soft soothing circles and stopped over a humming pulse point to lean just a few inches closer to Will’s ear as he whispered words that sounded like sin.

“Are you hungry?”

The pulse under Hannibal’s thumb stuttered and speed up.

“Yes.”

Will felt like his answer was for more than just food, if he peered close enough he would find the answer, the hidden meaning, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to care enough to know what it was.

* * *

 

The little light clicked on with the door, revealing the dismal selection. Half a carton of milk was passed to the counter followed by four eggs and Kraft cheese slices. Just touching the thin plastic was enough to turn Hannibal’s stomach but it was the best he could do with what he was given.

“I will drop by groceries tomorrow. What time will be best?”

Will landed heavily into one of the mismatched chairs lining his dented table. Hannibal’s brokered no argument. He _will_ be bringing over cooking supplies, the only question was when.

A cheek pressed against the worn wood, he accepting defeat. “I’ll be home around 6.” The exhaustion was taking its toll, softening Will into being complacent, not wanting to waste mental power on confrontation.

Salted butter bubbled in a heated pan as Hannibal whisked eggs and milk into a frothy mixture. Flecked spices, salt, and pepper were folded in while he compiled a list of things to buy.

“I will drop by some simple recipes for you as well.” Knowing full well the food will just go bad otherwise. The bowl’s contents were dipped into the sizzling pan, the yellow eggs settling into a thin pancake. The cheese was stripped of its plastic and set aside while the egg cooked through.

Will mumbled something unintelligible and turned so the other cheek was pressed against the table while he turned a thought over in head. “I’d rather you cook for me instead.” He whispered into the wood, low enough that he thought Hannibal wouldn’t hear and was startled when the doctor ran chilled fingers up his neck; the tips pushing into dark chocolate locks and only stopped when they settled at the crown of Will’s head. Odd feelings were twisting in his empty stomach at Hannibal’s petting touch.

“I am more than delighted to cook for you anytime you desire.” Hannibal spoke as he reversed the path of his fingers.

Will twisted till his forehead pressed against the unforgiving wood, a heated sound masquerading as a breath didn’t fool Dr. Lecter as the young man struggled with his self-induced punishment, denying himself of so much.

He eased his fingers back up, hoping to pull the words from the other and only got resistance. Resistance was still better than flat rejection, so he withdrew for now, returning to the sizzling meal.

Stubble rasped against the wood as Will turned his head, watching Hannibal’s broad back while he worked. The way he cooked was mesmerizing, all fluid movements that culminated into something that astounded the senses. Teeth dug softly into his bottom lip, leaving indents in their wake when Will realized the image he was portraying and quickly stopped. A warm tongue left a thin sheen of saliva across the marks in hind thought, only adding to the alluring picture.

He turned away again, trying to chase the images and feelings from his head. The way Hannibal’s fingers grasped the pan caused sensations that floated over his skin. Places Will knows the man has never touched are lighting up like fireflies and sending him into a psychological mess. Digits stroking down his chest and up his thighs and when a wet hot mouth whispers sweet tempting Lithuanian seduction before clamping tight over his cock Will couldn’t help but react.

Lecter feels the charge in the air even before the near silent noise cuts through the sounds of gas fed fire, drawing his attention away from the melting cheese to the lovely creature behind him. Instead of turning in curiosity Hannibal idly flips the delicate omelet, leaving Will to stew in his own sexual frustration. That was always the burden of the chef, as much as a course may tempt the senses, it has to be left alone to cook; too much fiddling will ruin the dish and if it is eaten too early it will disappoint the palate.

Pressing his face hard into the unforgiving surface of the table, Will focused on the sharp twinge of pain shooting behind his eyes from the bridge of his nose than the sweet tight heat becoming a problem in his pants. It was working, but just barely. Not trusting his expression, he kept his face firmly against the worn wood when he heard Hannibal set a plate in front of him. To which Will promptly snapped at, doing his best to keep the breathless flutter at bay and only portray irritation.

“Thanks for the meal, but I’ve just reached my tolerance of people for the week.”

The clear undertone of ‘Leave immediately’ was glaringly obvious in Will’s hunched shoulders and frustrated annoyance.

 Hannibal set a fork neatly across a folded paper napkin and allowed the young man to be rude. After all he was in emotionally unfamiliar territory and when dogs were in unfamiliar territory they tend to bark, growl and lash out; even to familiar hands bearing treats. All it meant was that his pet was still poorly trained; easily rectified with time.

He took a carefully measured breath, mentally feeling out his course of actions and their ramifications before speaking.

“From what you have seen of me, do I strike you as one who spend superfluous time on something I do not care about?”

Hannibal took the time to run his hand twice over Winston’s head before leaving Will to the silence of his animals. His expensive but inconspicuous car rumbling into oblivion as it drove back to civilization. The weight of his words bore down on Will, nearly crushing him with their meaning.

* * *

 

{It’s Tuesday, 9:27 PM, I’m at the FBI morgue, and my name is Will Graham}

The conversations around Will were muffled as if he was underwater and slowly surfacing. It put a strain on his already taxed brain with the effort of trying to loop dampened syllables into words. The first thing he heard was some off brand remark by Zeller that Will had really wished he missed, the man seemed intent to irk him at every turn.

“Of course Graham gets the homicidal secret admirer. Couldn’t just give you flowers and chocolate like a normal person instead of giving **_us_** **_more_** work to do?”

Beverly set down the pair of tweezers she was using to go over the soft folds of the expensive silk scarf. “I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cute. Like when a feline brings home dead rodents.”

A laugh was interjected into the conversation courtesy of Price as he threw in his two cents as well. “I always liked that about cats, they think their owners can’t hunt for themselves so they kill prey to try and feed to them. Teach them how to hunt.”

It was Zeller’s turn to laugh at the same time he pointed the scalpel he was using to scrape dried blood from the corpse in Will’s general direction. “Will Graham, beacon of hope to all strays including those of the serial killer persuasion.”

Jack’s booming voice echoed with his agitation, he was here for facts and was rewarded with idle bickering. “Zeller! If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Beverly chuckled, “Easy there Thumper.” Her long inky black hair tumbling over her shoulders as she leaned over the black and purple scarf.

 “This is a pricey scarf. Not something our murder victim would have worn. It’s silk, and see this?” A tag was pulled from an inseam with the name Hermas stitched neatly into it. “It’s a high end company in France dating back a hundred years. Something like this goes for anywhere between seven hundred and a thousand dollars. While Mr…”

A chart was flipped open with a picture of the dead man very much alive next to a full workup of information. Scanning the info Price held up a finger with the answer. “Christopher Ward, 27, former occupation IT Consultant. Lived with 2 roommates. Died of exsanguination and it would seem that his brain and tongue were removed pre-mortem. Just like the last shrike victim. Not a pretty way to die.”

“That scarf did not belong to this man. It belongs to our killer.” All eyes turned to Will Graham who had thus previously remained silent.

Hands tucking firmly into the pockets of his pristine labcoat, Zeller sneered in defiance.  “How could you possibly know that?”

Will traced a gloved finger along the underside of the cadaver’s chin, then down to the hollow between the clavicles. “Anyone who is in a habit of wearing a scarf would bear the marks of it, tan lines or irritation, this man shows neither.” Tossing a gesture towards the posh scarf, Will continued. “He is not the type to flippantly waste money on clothes when it could be put towards a computer or system.”

A few members of his audience looked baffled and Will felt his already sapped energy draining further. “The IT job, the dull pallor, the calluses on the sides of his thumbs and tips of fingers.” It was so painfully obvious the man never saw daylight often and when he did it was with jeans and t-shirts not $700 scarves.”

Crawford leveled a gaze at his best fiber analyst. “That seems to be the only useful evidence we have, so find out who bought it and when so we can make some headway on this case. Class Dismissed.”

Beverly’s shoulder bumped into Will’s and a joking lilt broke out in her voice. “Way to go Sherlock.”

A hard laugh was all he could muster in retaliation to the teasing compliment.

* * *

 

{“It’s Tuesday, 11:49 PM, I’m at Sibley Memorial Hospital, and my name is Will Graham.”}

“He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house, and was more like a cupboard than a room. The landlady, who provided him with garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her.”

The soft beep of the heart monitor was the metronome for Will’s voice, keeping him in time as he read aloud. A stack of conquered books already lay on the wheeled table behind him. Two fingers pushed the bridge of the thick black rimmed glasses higher on his nose.

“This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary; but for some time past he had been in an overstrained, irritable condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but any one at all. He was crushed-“ A loud and harsh beeping chopped through Will’s words like a cleaver until a detached nurse silenced the machine to clear the air from Abigail’s line.

“What are you reading?” The attractive smile she produced was marred by the callous lines around her eyes.

Will held up the book, finger firmly marking his spot as he did so to flash the cover. “Crime and Punishment.”

“A classic, I’m sure she is loving it.” The words were solely for Will’s benefit, they always were. The doctors had told him on numerous occasions that Abigail would never wake up. The machines whirring, clicking, and beeping around her were the only things keeping her body alive, but Will refused to stay away, his guilt tethering him to her; trying to right the wrong he committed.  

* * *

 

He reads late into the day, till his voice is raw and chafed and the sun is dusting pinks and oranges across the sterile powder blue walls. The book descends to the white disinfected sheets before Will’s head plummets next to it.

Unsure fingers trace Abigail’s still ones. It always came down to this moment. Will read to her for hours on end in return for one sided conversations he couldn’t speak about to others. Abigail relieved him in ways his dogs couldn’t, held the possibility of forgiveness and understanding without the heartbreak of rejection.

“The Minnesota Shrike copycat left a body at my doorstop.” A half laugh mixed with gravel made his statement darker than he tried to make it. “I had two dozen police officers running about my front yard looking like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off.” Will slid two fingers into her warm and lose grasp. “Doctor Lecter was there too. You remember him; he was the one who saved you.” He looked up into her sleeping face without fear of her looking back and seeing his demons. “He said something odd to me. It’s ridiculous but I think he might think about me in some of the same ways that I think about him. I know it’s childish to be so concerned over something like this, but I can’t help but think of its impracticality.  We’ve been having our ‘friendly therapist chats’ for a while now and if anyone should know how broken and emotionally unstable I am, it should be him. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand him. What can he see in someone as worthless as me?”

The hiss of the machine breathing fresh air into Abigail’s lungs gave him artificial hope and answers. The guilt from his uncalled for outburst bubbled in Will’s empty stomach. The omelet was still lying untouched at his kitchen table, not having the heart to be able to eat it after practically verbally chasing Hannibal from his home.

Will held out hope that by the time he returned home it would have fallen victim to his dogs, transferring the blame with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of smut and fluff, hopefully if all goes well and according to Hannibal's plans there will be some in the next chapter :)


	6. Half confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal drops off food and nothing goes as planned....or does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry to everyone waiting for this chapter. Things out of my control were getting out of hand. But I am almost back to full speed and I will continue on with this story and hopefully have another chapter soon.

{“It’s Tuesday, 6:11 PM, I’m in Wolf Trap, Virginia, and my name is Will Graham.”}

There is already a car waiting for him when Will rolls into his driveway. Its owner not residing inside but already positioned on the porch with brown paper bags nestled at his feet. He swallowed a razor blade of guilt, knowing the man had most likely been waiting there for him since exactly six.

Will’s head connected hard against the steering wheel and only when the sharp pinch cascaded into a dull throb did he finally exit the car to face what was rapidly becoming the center of his world. Friends he used to see and talk to were bleeding into the background. Not even his good friend Alana had made an appearance to his home in well over a month, but what bothered him most was the evident lack of minding her increasing absence.

“Sorry I’m late.” Will fumbled with his keys as he closed in; nearly dropping them in his efforts to avoid the other’s tepid stare.

“By no means should you apologize. I am the one who imposed upon you with my inconvenient visit.” The bags were gathered into off-set plaid covered arms, the pair looking simplistically domestic as they crowded to the door.

Shaking fingers could barely puzzle the lock and key together with Hannibal in such close proximity. It was as if the man was electrified static and Will could feel his skin tingling with Lecter’s suffocatingly calm presence.

Hannibal’s low accent interrupted the early stages of cricket conversations. “You’ve been to see Abigail.” There was no twist of a question or even a hint of uncertainty, only acceptance of a surveyed fact.

The key slid home with the deep metallic sound of a zipper being torn apart. There was nothing he could say to him that didn’t sound pathetic so Will stayed silent, pushing his way through door and dogs both.

A sideways glance through the darkening gloom to his kitchen revealed a plate that was seemingly licked clean by furry vacuum cleaners. A breath Will didn’t even know he was holding deflated his broad chest and the empty plate was swiftly scooped away out of sight.

Awkward silence settled like sodden denim over Will’s conscience while Hannibal went about unpacking the paper bags, seemingly unaffected by the break in conversation. He stammered over a few instances of small talk before drifting into uneasy silence. Where once it had been so easy to talk to the man so nonchalantly putting away groceries in his house, it now seemed near impossible to strike up simple conversation.

* * *

 

Every time one of the fresh organic produce went into the fridge an item was subsequently tossed into the refuse bin. Hannibal took shameful delight in seeing the expiring food piling up in the trash. When a nice fat flank steak was settled next to a block of the finest white cheddar he couldn’t help the smile that threatened to sketch his mask with false humanity. Seamlessly inserting himself into the man’s life had been arduous, but well worth the effort. Seeing last night’s fresh kill in William’s territory was riling up demons moaning of lust and blood that were meddling with his thoughts.

Will made another softly frustrated noise of indecision, once again killing off a line of conversation before he could vocalize it.

 It was interesting and dare Hannibal think it? Cute in a way.

The last of the perishables were sorted away and something wrapped expertly in a bow is lifted from the bottom of the last bag. A dull silvery gray box tied up with purple ribbon is gingerly placed in not so plain sight on the counter. It has no tags with names on it, nothing to say it is directly from him but William will know. It plays to his advantage if Hannibal does not directly give it to Will himself.

The air is thick with the uncomfortable tension spilling from Will and although it is less enjoyable than the easy pace they had before, Lecter still basks in it. Just the thought of his pet’s mind being tossed into a hurricane ravaged sea because of his words and actions are barely enough for him to not let the demons win.

“William.” Hannibal’s whispering accent like felt against antlers draws Will from his stormy thinking to catch the tail end of his name.

“Yes?”

“I have been roped into an engagement and I was wondering if you would like to accompany me?”

Hesitation drew in Will’s features, dipping the corners of his mouth and eyebrows endearingly, sensing the carefully laid and concealed snare even if he could not see it. “Why? What is so unbearable that having me there would make it better?”

“An old acquaintance of mine is hosting a benefit dinner on Saturday that I am painfully ill prepared for.”

Hannibal scanned Will’s face, making note of every emotion that flashed across it. The shocked surprise clashed gorgeously with subtle excitement and curiosity but when he caught the tail end of guilt and apology it made his inside boil and froth.

“I-I’m sorry but I have a lecture that day.”

The pit of Lecter’s stomach was set to simmer, his expectation of a negative response was well met, but not in the way he expected. “You only teach during weekdays.” It was not a question, merely a statement based on his observations, a gentle hint that Will couldn’t lie to him even if he wished to.

“I know, but I am supposed to teach a group of students that are thinking about entering in. Sort of like a field trip. But instead of going to an aquarium or a petting zoo, they get to enjoy my particular brand of crazy for a couple hours.” Will’s self-depreciation rang hollow but deep. It hurt to see just how low the young man’s self-esteem truly was.

“Are you familiar with Kintsugi?”

“Huh?” It took several seconds for him to catch the word he was hearing was not in any language Will recognized. “No?” His answer was blunt and devoid of the unnecessary chatter that usually followed in normal conversations because regardless of it Hannibal would tell him. It seemed the man relished every fact he could sow into Will’s brain; growing new trees in his steadily growing forest of knowledge with more and more of them bearing Hannibal’s name across their roots. Making the man more refined and educated with every whispered fact and kiss of information.

Hannibal lingered with his thoughts, lacing together words from poorly translated texts stored in his brain. “When a cherished piece of pottery breaks it is carefully gathered back together and the cracks filled with gold. It is believed that an object’s imperfections should make it more beautiful and give the piece more personality.”

The light atmosphere crumbled as Will looked sharply up into Lecter’s eyes. The eye contact alone was enough to scramble Hannibal’s course of events, but the look William leveled at him was truly surprising. “Why do you do this to me?” The agent looked as if he was breaking. It was truly beautiful.

Hannibal wracked his brain, picking apart their conversation that would produce such emotions and came up empty. Will was truly a fascinating thing. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Do this?” Will made a snappy gesture between their two bodies before throwing down his arm in frustration. “Tell me those kinds of weird things?”

The doctor’s mask slipped and softened hints of compassion and understanding peeked through the seams and he adjusted his plans slightly. “It is because I see your potential. Your _true_ potential. You are fractured, but those imperfections make you beautiful and unique.”

“No! Stop it. You know what I mean. What do you gain from all this?” He gestured around wildly at the groceries, looking for answers and feeling cheated; scared that one day he would look up and find that their entire relationship was some elaborate ruse to dissect his mind and study it like every other psychiatrist he had ever met.

Hannibal calmly held the other’s gaze. “I gain your companionship in whichever form you are willing to offer it to me. As much as you think otherwise, I view you as very intellectually _stimulating_.” The word dripped of sin and fingers as chilled as his heart extended to Will’s fever flushed cheek.

Heart beating erratically out of control like a trapped animal, Will forced himself to maintain eye contact, his entire body screaming at him to stop, but he needed to know, needed to feel what the other was feeling and was coming up frustratingly blank.

Lecter drifted in closer, gently caressing Will’s sweat soaked skin and pulled the man into a startling kiss.

A sharp nip has Will gasping and parting his lips to the assault and all he can think about is how Hannibal tastes of fine wine and rare bloody meat, all deep and warm spices with the hidden twang of copper simmering underneath, tongue sliding against the thick muscle invading his mouth and savoring the flavor. A muscular arm snaked around his waist and pulled him in close and Will unwillingly melts into the embrace.

 Wandering hands work their way into Hannibal’s hair, knowingly mussing the back of it as he leans heavily into the stronger man’s form. A silent near imperceptible movement of disapproval has Will practically moaning into the kiss. Finger tips drag their way down, skimming over Hannibal’s neck and bypassing his stiff collar until they found their way to the front of his crisp suit jacket.

Will pulled back an inch, drowning in desperation for more than air. With shaky out of practice movements he ducked under Hannibal’s chin, gently brushing soft lips against the sensitive flesh before sucking a blush colored mark onto the flawless skin and it earned him a barely suppressed sound of enjoyment. A fresh pink mark glistened with saliva as Will tripped his way down Hannibal’s neck, leaving several suctioned bites in his wake even as he worked at the tie knotted at his throat to expose more of it.

Lecter pressed their bodies closer together and Will gasped at the rough friction, retaliating with harsh twists of his fingers into the crisp suit, wrinkling the fabric and smirking wickedly at how wrecked the other man was becoming. Hair out of place, clothes a mess, and an obscene bulge marring the ironed crease of his pants brought out a sick giddy feeling that made Will lightheaded behind his rapidly building lust. He’s all clinging hands and mild destruction, ruining the perfect image of the man successfully undoing him at the edges. It was like chipping away at the stature of David, carving his own marks into the sculpted muscle in bite marks turned red with suction.

A bleeding groan that is nothing but heat and moisture is pulled from Will’s lungs, his skin vibrating with need under his clothes, trembling right alongside the ground. Will has to focus hard to catch his partner’s words, the syllables drifting in and out between English and Lithuanian.

He can’t tear his eyes away from the light pink marks he left. The color that seemed to darken as he watched it, turning to dark crimson and drip down till it met fabric and leeched into it. Will’s tongue dragged through the thick mess to try and steam the flow, panicking only when the drips seemed to gush from tearing skin. Inky blackness bled outwards from the bleeding wounds even as conflicting terror and arousal warred for dominancy over Will’s body.

Hannibal’s draining form tumbled back, but what landed on the floor was not his friend. It was wearing his suit, but the creature wearing it was misshapen, half man half stag. Fear and arousal gave way to only one thing. **Exhilaration**.

* * *

 

Hannibal sank his teeth into the brunette’s lip, tongue tenderly arching across it to sweep away the indents left behind before delving inside. Fingers play down Will’s back, bringing their bodies flush against each other and reveling in the way the younger seemed to yield to his touch. Will’s little thrust-like spasms bringing their erections together brought out a heavy underline to Hannibal’s steady breathing.

A restrained noise and the hard throbbing of his cock was the only indication of Hannibal’s slipping façade. The intimacy of shared breath brought out the thrilling memories of cutting off airways and inhaling a life’s dying flame. Will was all hot heavy points of contact and roaming hands, making it increasingly difficult for the doctor to hold back. The sadist in him wanted to fuck Will into ribbons. To wreck and make the weaker man hurt and bleed, but the small inklings of affection he has for William keeps that part of him at bay.

Soft chocolate locks tease under Hannibal’s chin as Will sucks a myriad of passionate marks along his neck; almost making up for the meek insolence he suffered silently through. Hannibal allowed his grasp to wander, melting away his irritation with stolen touches, mapping out how Will responded to each touch now that he was conscious enough to school his reactions. The tiny hums of arousal and needy gasps against his neck have Hannibal starved for more.

The particularly disobedient action of defiling Hannibal’s suit is met with growled out warnings of swift punishments that go seemingly unheeded. Small noises like high pitched kettles slowly come to the forefront of Hannibal’s awareness; only vaguely realizing that the noises he was hearing was the numerous pack animals circling their paired legs.

“Will?” The unstoppable force that had been driving their heated tryst in Lecter’s arms ceased his movements and went rigid only moments before his entire body started to shake. “William?”

Hannibal eased a thumb under the other’s nearly white eye and carefully raised the lid, exposing the convulsing iris climbing back into Will’s head. It only took the doctor a second to slide a smooth black penlight from his pocket, striking quick lines across Will’s hazel eyes with the medical light. “Can you hear me Will?” The inky black pupils contracted into pinpricks but otherwise Hannibal got no response from the seizing agent.

Graham was nothing but stiff weight and uncooperative shuddering limbs but the doctor managed to maneuver him into bed and on his side. Fingers mocking affection checked a pulse, both delighted and mildly concerned at the way it fluttered and skipped under his pads. There was hardly any need to press wrist to forehead; Hannibal could feel the heat pouring off Will’s skin as if the man had freshly stepped from Hell.

The tremors trailed off abruptly, leaving the sickly agent’s body exhausted and motionless. Only the softly ragged breathing that was happening right under Will’s ribcage gave any indication that Hannibal could refrain from harvesting his most anticipated meal. The Doctor knew exactly how long Will would be out. A mild seizure was nothing he had to be concerned about, though curiosity thrummed just under the surface. Graham’s illness was progressively worsening while his inhibitions deteriorated. Hannibal would have to keep a better on eye on his experiment’s condition; it wouldn’t do for it to spiral out of control like this.

Will was both fortunate and ill-fated to have caught the eye of such a well prepared doctor. A case filled with a small ambulance’s worth of drugs and equipment was stashed away in Lecter’s trunk.

Hannibal moved the items around picking and choosing the items he retrieved carefully. Acetaminophen to decrease the fever, Dexamethasone to reduce the brain swelling from dangerously severe to manageable, and a cold pack to immediately bring down the vicious temperature.

Strong fingers broke the inner packet of the cold pack, starting the chain reaction of chemicals inside it to plummet in temperature before it was placed on Will’s searing forehead. Two pills of each drug were placed to the very back of Graham’s throat, the tips of Hannibal’s fingers brushing lightly against the rough velvet of his tongue as they pulled back. Mildly inappropriate thoughts of what William could do to him with that tongue sprung to the surface as he tilted the young man’s head to get him to swallow the medicine.

Lecter’s mouth split open, revealing several sharp pearly teeth; a true predator’s grin. The good doctor had been toying with different ideas pertaining to Will and his _condition_ for as long as he had first lain eyes on the imaginative profiler. However one particular thought wormed its way to fruition from his creatively dark side.

Cool fingers skated over a fever flushed cheek, brushing over tender lips and dipping into the wet heat between for only the briefest of moments before returning back to their owner’s side.

“I have something very special planned for you.”

Hannibal’s words fell on deaf ears, but it was not fully intended for young William to hear.


	7. First Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will goes to class, an unexpected student shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to get this done weeks ago, but you know how it is. Equal parts procrastination and writers block, maybe more of one than the other. So many internet things to do and so little time.  
> Also, my chapter look so much longer and satisfying in word documents.

{“It’s Wednesday, 4:08 AM, I’m in Wolf Trap, Virginia, and my name is Will Graham.”}

Hazy grey light filters through the wide bay windows, plucking a sleepy and reluctant Will from his blackout slumber. He could tell it was early because even the scattered furry bodies huddled around his bed weren’t awake yet.

The brunette tossed and turned, not wanting to get up. It was the first night in a very long time Will hadn’t had nightmares tossing him from one side of the bed to the other and as much as he was trying to chase after such peaceful sleep, it was eluding him.

With a small huff of annoyance Will interlaced his fingers, thrusting them high into the air and sighing when both shoulders popped, his back quickly following after he arched it sharply into the motion.

“Breakfast. Who wants some?”

A couple pairs of ears stirred but largely he was disregarded. Even his dogs had deemed it too early to be awake.

“Fine then, more for me.”

 He tossed a glance at the counter, eyeing the coffee machine. For once in his life Will didn’t feel like he would die without the caffeine. It was a vaguely odd feeling, but not wholly unpleasant.

Graham sifted through the contents of his fridge, smiling as he noticed the brand names. They meant nothing to him, but no doubt they were of the best quality money could buy.

Several packages of paper wrapped meat sat neatly lined up. Hannibal’s tight and perfect cursive identifying the different cuts of meat. He didn’t know what to do with most of them, but one he half recognized. A package marked pancetta was quickly scooped up. After all, it was just like bacon, only fancy, right?

The sound of eggs had Will’s stomach turning, but lunch for breakfast had a pleasant ring to it.

The meat found its way onto the counter next to lettuce, one tomato, and a nice soft loaf of sourdough.

Hazel eyes narrowed in confusion, a dash of silver snatching his attention away from the task at hand; something that didn’t belong on the counter but seemed perfectly at home tucked against the wall.

Finger pads skated across the dull matte paper, skirting the edge of a deep mauve ribbon. Curiosity had Will plucking it off and carefully revealing the contents.

Butterflies and birds fought for room in Will’s stomach when he fingered the maroon and white fabric of a chef quality apron. Tight embroidery spelling out his name. Something only used explicitly by two people; his mother being one and Hannibal the other. Both annoying and comforting with an edge of guilt even though he had done nothing wrong. Anytime something was found broken his mother was yelling it, regardless if he was the culprit or not.

What at first glance had been a photo album turned out to be a homemade book.

 _Recipes for Beginners_ was written across the first page in Lecter’s neat handwriting.

 He carefully lifted each page, fingers gliding across the delicate scrawl, caressing each letter and barely even registering the meanings only to focus on the feelings behind each word. Such light airy things, but suffocating at the same time, like a heavy down blanket.

Next to each recipe was a picture of the dish while across from it were foreign words followed by their meaning.

“Su-ma…žinti? Sumažinti . To cut.”

Will quickly turned to the next page, finding the taste of the new Lithuanian word exiting.

“Parengti. To prepare.”

His fingers stuttered across the third page.

“žmogaus kūnas.” _The flesh_.

“Supjaustyti ir paruošti žmogaus kūnas.” The words came out barely a whisper, but the intent was still there.

A nearly imperceptible thrill drowned out the butterflies in Will’s stomach. Guilt sang in his gut as if he was seeing something he shouldn’t see even though he could not understand it.

Graham hastily skipped to the next page, focusing on the recipes instead of the study guides. Several more pages followed suit before Will noticed that he had the ingredients to make every one of these recipes. Hannibal had put a great deal of thought and preparation into his gift.

He roughly turned until he saw pancetta as one of the main ingredients. _Croque Monsier_

The first half seemed easy enough just cook the fancy bacon and organize into a sandwich. Frying it would be the hard part, so Will deemed some creative substitution was in order, after all, no one was around to stop him. He could be a mad genius all he wanted.

An egg, nutmeg, cinnamon, and milk were whisked into a frothy batter, some pieces of bacon being dipped into the mixture before being tossed into a pan. Even raw, it already started to smell amazing. Just the right amount of fat and meat. He would have to meet Hannibal’s butcher one day and thank him.

Soon the smell of sizzling deliciousness was filling the house, his own drooling mouth not the only one loitering around the kitchen.

The pancetta, some greyère cheese, tomato, and spicy mustard were haphazardly spread onto the sourdough, leftover bacon being feed to the begging maws at his knees. The leftover egg mixture was swiftly cooked up and folded between the bacon and the cheese. It was something his mother used to do with the leftover batter from French toast as a kid. So strange how it was always the small things that carried the most weight into adulthood.

Breakfast was peculiar, delicious, and oddly high class in a way that hinted of a Hannibal cooked meal. It was in that moment that Will decided it was well past his turn to cook a meal for the two of them.

* * *

 

It was in that thought provoking time of day called ‘ponder your existence shower time’ when last nights occurrences drifted to the surface of his memories.  Fuzzy at first to the point where Will almost thought it was a dream, but the image grew starkly clear. He had kissed Hannibal. Him, Will Graham initiated the intimate contact, Will Graham, the man who avoided eye contact like the plague instigated physical contact with Hannibal Lecter, gentleman doctor and his friend.

Will’s head forcefully acquainted itself with the tiled wall, willing himself to try to remember more while at the same time trying to bash the memory away.

His recollection of last night’s events sort of grayed out after the kiss, which he was thankful for but also hated, wondering how far he had gone before he ended up in bed.

Another hit of his head to tile bashed away a thought containing the words **_they_** and **_bed_** ; not wanting to finish that train of thought at all, no matter how well his body seemed to react to the delicious imagery.

* * *

 

{“It’s Wednesday, 8:47 AM, I’m at the FBI Academy, and my name is Will Graham.”}

Will was slipping in slides when the first trickling of students came in. Half mumbled greetings from both parties only half heard and acknowledged before they continued to their seats. A short mousey girl dashed up thanking him profusely while she handed over a paper that had been due the previous week. Normally he was very strict about deadlines, but the grief that still reddened her eyes rang true to her excuse.

When 9:05 rolled around and the stream of students died down Professor Graham took his place at the head of the class, projector remote in hand.

The thick glasses blurred the faces he stared at, their features softened into lifeless mannequins and turning the crowd to just this side of bearable human contact.

“How many of you have been keeping up with the cases in the news like I suggested?”

Around half his class raised their hands confidently, while murmurs roiled through the rest, ruining the illusion.

Exacerbated, Will clicked the button in his hand and the projector whirred into life.

“Then for those of you that have been listening to me you already know the subject of today’s discussion. The murder dubbed the Portrait Killer as well as a new segment on the Chesapeake Ripper.”

The lights went out and the button clicked again illuminating the back wall in perfect red outline of the Portrait Killer’s latest mural.

“Now, what can you tell me about the person who created this?”

Several students chattered amongst themselves, exchanging ideas and Will gave them ample time to talk it out. There was no rush and they were young after all.

The sound of the door drew Will’s attention, but he largely ignored it. If it had been Jack there would have been a loud banging accompanied by a sharply raised voice, the lack of which probably signaled it was just a late student.

A hand was raised in the back, Graham nodding abruptly to indicate the girl to speak.

“From the victim pool I would assume that his fascination with the family dynamic is most likely due to the killer’s own family. Either they are dead or dysfunctional. He yearns for an idealic family setting?”

A boy towards the front shot his hand into the air, not even waiting for Will to acknowledge him before quickly speaking.

“But the wide range of victims suggests that he is not so much obsessed with the idealic family setting but more towards the love found in the family itself. He wants what they have.”

The young man’s words were uncertain, but rung true more or less. Will corrected them and guided their answers, trying to get them to feel it and not just repeat information or guess. It wouldn’t do his students any good if they couldn’t come up with their own profiles by the end of the semester.

The first hour went by relatively quick. Snippets of back and forth, prompting the agents in training to speak their minds about the images that flashed behind his back like a metronome.

* * *

 

{“It’s Wednesday, 10:01 AM, I’m at the FBI Academy, and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

The good doctor clung to the shadows, not wanting to disrupt Will’s lecture. It was a rare thing to see the man speak for so long without shrinking back into himself. It was enthralling.

Will’s hand made barely perceptible movements with every slide, itching to fiddle with his glasses in some way, wanting to squirm under the observation of so many, but ultimately holding himself back from being overly restless in front of his students.

It was positively adorable how much Will Graham cared about looking like a professional. Like he was a normal, sane, everyday teacher. If Hannibal didn’t know better he might have even said it bordered on the mundane.

If only he would stop resisting the constrains of morality and metamorphosize into the beautiful and deadly creature Hannibal knew him to be.

“The Chesapeake Ripper.” The sound of Will’s authoritative voice summoned the next slide.

He wondered idly if Will knew how seductively he called out Hannibal’s true name. The way his eyes lit up, as if remembering an old friend only seen around special occasions. After all he had been unknowingly chasing after Hannibal’s tail for nearly as long as Jack had.

Hannibal slunk into raised rows of desks, the low light and Will’s ill-corrective lenses masking his presence from the teacher as he settled in next to a studious looking youth.

A grizzly view of his last murder had the doctor positively glowing as curious stares played along his peripheral.

“What do you immediately see here that draws your attention?”

“Isn’t it just a repeat of the shrike copycat?”

A young man was already running off a mouthy answer as Hannibal stealthily borrowed a slip of paper and a pen, scribbling down his own question to deliver by proxy.

Will tapped out a rhythm behind his back against the wooden contemporary desk, trying to figure out how best to fraise his response.

“Yes and no. It is similar, but key differences change the entire meaning of it. It’s no longer a tip of the hat to a fellow… ‘enthusiast’, but a letter of intent.”

Doctor Lecter almost struggled to keep from smiling at Will’s choice in words. With minimal movement the slip under his pen transferred hands and with some gentle persuasion the contents read aloud.

“Professor Graham? Soup or stew for dinner?” The confusion was utterly palpable and it was delicious the way Will looked up as if startled, tinges of fear and perplexity staining the corners of his features.

“What?”

A reassuring hand urged the other to repeat the question and with clarity Will was stamping in a light tantrum to the light switch, dazzling the audience into blindness when it was turned on without warning.  

Words were practically thrown out in Hannibal’s direction, but it seemed Will was too angry to even look his way. “Seems we have a snake in the house, if you please Doctor, I would like a word outside.”

He resigned to his fate, flowing down the steps to follow the seething mongoose, but was pleasantly surprised when he turned to receive a slammed door in his face instead of seeing his pet project flustered and yelling.

* * *

 

{“It’s Thursday, 7:08 PM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland, and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

Will was loitering high in the loft of Hannibal’s office. From his low vantage he could tell the delicious young man was rearranging books and making a general nuisance of himself. He had only brought it upon himself by visiting his class and flustering Will in front of so many witnesses. That was probably what had prompted the spontaneous visit. Hannibal was more than a little disappointed that he hadn’t been able to stick around to observe the aftermath.

“Doctor Lecter?”

“William, please. Call me Hannibal.”

“ _Doctor Lecter._ ” Will’s tone brokered no room for argument and Hannibal felt his dominating control imperceptibly waver. A momentary flash of something dark settled deep around his amber irises at the blatantly obvious push of boundaries.  

His breath lingered a second or so longer than average, calming the predator long enough to consider the use of force a wrong one, so he remained quite; allowing Will to finish.

The young man plucked another book of the shelf, purposefully setting it on a lower one upside down. “I respect your job. I don’t lurk around when you have patients and I certainly don’t pass notes through them in silly wastes of your time, so I would appreciate it if you would not come to my classroom and interfere with my students.”

As much as the idea was tempting, Will would be too much of a distraction while he was listening to the drabbles of the mildly strained minds he was trying to soothe. Although on the other hand the man’s presence would keep him concentrating enough on not trying to kill his more irritating patients. Besides, it seemed as if Hannibal would get an interesting surprise if he conceded.

“And if I was to heed your request?” What incentive would I have?”

Fingertips lightly caressed the spines in front of him, Hannibal unable to suppress a shiver at the action, wishing his own skin was under Will’s attentive touch.

Will’s blush could have been seen from space if there had been a skylight to see it from. His words mumbled into nothingness and a smile that was not entirely faked alighted on Hannibal’s lips.

“If you do not speak up, you will have to write it down and pass it along through one of my patients.” The needling hint that if Will didn’t speak up Hannibal was going to continue interfering was clearly conveyed.

He whirled around, grabbed the wooden banister, and glared vehemently down at the well dressed tyrant below him. Even with the height difference in Will’s favor, the power dynamic was firmly sitting in Hannibal’s court. It made the young man feel small and helpless in an agonizingly annoying way.

“I said I would feed you. Make a meal for you. I thought it was only fair to use a well intended present on its giver regardless of if he deserved it or not.”

“Then I graciously accept your invitation.” Hannibal tucked into a tight bow, arm stretching out in mock grandeur.


	8. 95% useless porn 5% plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My super awesome Halloween episode that has nothing to do with the plot whatsoever!  
> *breath**gasp**wheeze*

Halloween Special Intermission:

“Where is your costume?” Will felt sheepish, out of place, and ridiculous in his Crypto costume while Hannibal stood opposite; dressed down in a business casual light grey and maroon suit. A deep shade of humiliation bled across Graham’s cheeks. “You said this was a Halloween party. I just kinda assumed…you know, that it was a costumed thing.”

Hannibal eased a hand out to his guest, cutting the tension and inviting him further inside.

“By all means William, don’t make assumptions. I am dressed to kill. After all the most deadly of creatures are wrapped in unassuming packages.”

Easy laughter trailed Will’s shadow as he followed the well worn path to the Doctor’s dining room. “What are you Ted Bundy?”

“I was going for something a little more creative.”The top of a tray was majestically twirled off a silver platter revealing a dressed and delicately roasted human heart. “Say hello to your friendly neighborhood Cannibal.”

The prop looked incredibly real and Will balked at the idea that maybe Hannibal cashed in on a favor from someone in the morgue.

Five more dishes revealed themselves all featuring some major organ that looked more human than animal and the heavenly delicious smells that were wafting under his nose was verging on the sinful.

“Please tell me those parts are from animals and not dead people because I am almost hungry enough not to care at the moment.”

Keeping his expression at mild amusement, Hannibal’s long fingers pointed to each dish in turn, tenderly whispering the name of the dish and listing off the ingredients. Their dinner seemed to consist of a mouthy sheep, cruel steer, and a gluttonous sow. All thankfully not human despite the flourish that Hannibal was playing along with his costume. Will was loving how into Halloween his friend was. It was always his favorite holiday and to see someone else as into it as he was, was amazingly fun.

Hannibal took in the black smudges and lines across Will’s nose and cheeks trying to piece together his costume but ultimately failing. “If you might enlighten me, who are you masquerading as?” Will fingered the white pointed ears contrasting tastefully with chocolate curls. “Oh right. I forget that you didn’t grow up here. I’m Crypto the superdog!” Hands balled dramatically at his hips to complete the melodramatic effect his sentence contained. “Crypto was Superman’s dog in the old comic books. He had all the same powers as Superman but he… you know, was a dog.”

An amused smile softened Hannibal’s face as he watched the animated way Will talked about what must have surely been a favored childhood memory. “Come William, the food is getting cold.” The young teacher drew himself away from his thoughts, the yellow S dangling from the red collar round his neck metallically rung with the sharp movement as he spoke. “Why? Is no one else coming?” Hannibal offered up a chair alongside an explanation. “Crawford and his wife unfortunately couldn’t join us this evening and Alana suggested that we begin without her due to some late night paperwork. While the rest of the individuals that I invited all had similar excuses that I am less inclined to believe. So it would seem it is only going to be the two of us enjoying all this food tonight.”

“That’s a shame. Not that I mind of course, it’s just that Halloween is a very social event. It just seems weird not having at least a small group of people.” He fiddled with the red cape draped over his shoulders, while Hannibal served off portions of spectacularly cooked human bits.

Moderate amusement colored Hannibal’s words, “I had heard this was the one time of year you always made an appearance for regardless of the amount of people showing up. I could scarcely believe it, but I suppose even in my line of work I get it wrong from time to time.”

“Well, it’s easier to be around people when they are wearing masks. It’s the only time I can look and not have to see the real monsters lying underneath the fake.” Solemn laughter coated the room as Will revealed the profound truth.

Small portions of everything were served up while Hannibal pondered the other’s words. He enjoyed the holiday as much as Will, but for nearly the opposite reason. It was the one time of the year he could lower his mask and let a portion of himself free. “It must be liberating to unburden yourself from the evils of other men.”

 “Too bad it’s only once a year.” This time his laughter was effortless and genuine. Such a rare treat to Lecter’s ears.

“There is no law that says it can’t. I wouldn’t be opposed to hosting a Halloween event in July. In fact, it sounds like an interesting change of pace.” Hannibal sat down to his own full plate and the agent turned superdog took it as his cue to tuck into the fabulously cooked meal.

He should feel squeamish about the obviously human looking parts but for the majority all he could focus on was how delectably it settled on his palate. It didn’t seem wrong or weird, just another amazing and mouthwatering Hannibal prepared meal.

The small murmurs of appreciation from Will were surprising. Most people did not take to blatant cannibalism so well. The glass at Hannibal’s lips did well to conceal his interest, but not all of it.

 Graham stopped inhaling his food long enough to exhale some words.  “Your food is so good I wouldn’t be surprised if the president accepted an invitation if you would have sent him one.”

“You flatter me William, but I fear I am nowhere near important enough to warrant a visit from anyone as significant as the president.”

A fingertip worked its way around the edge of Hannibal’s glass, his eyes glued to the way Will awkwardly held his. Even after all that time the young man still couldn’t grasp how to hold his dinning wear. It was endearing.

Will rubbed at his neck obscured by the collar, soothing the chaffed skin underneath and Hannibal had a sudden overwhelming urge to twist his fingers around it and tug hard, to see the material bite into his flesh. The marks would be exquisite.

Just for a moment he forgot himself, his chair sliding out from under him as he stood. Will felt no need to feel alarm, Hannibal gave him no reason to; nothing in his demeanor betrayed his actions. He leaned in close, taking the fragile wine glass from Will’s outstretched fingers before capturing them in his own.

The motion was not brushed off, and the dusting of pink blooming across Will’s cheeks made him bolder. He stooped low to steal a kiss from the young profiler, savoring the taste of human flesh and wine he found between them. The taste grew stronger as the other parted his lips and dragged a tongue across Hannibal’s begging for entrance which he gave with little reluctance. His own dominating it till the slick muscle retreated back into Will’s mouth, defeated but not alone.

A soft moan proved just how touch starved the young man was as Hannibal trailed a hot caress from neck to hip. The sound alone was sinful in its innocence. It had him eager to hear more. Every stroking touch either pulled breathy noises from William or was quickly discarded until the man was a flushed mess.

Hannibal dove his fingers hungrily into chocolate locks that despite the poor care were softer than they looked. A famished growl escaped between their clashed lips startling William.

Doctor Lecter lounged against the table, fingers hooking beneath the scarlet collar. Minimal effort was needed to drag William from his chair to between Hannibal’s legs. Digits tugged the cape free, letting the fabric pile up in a heap around Will’s ankles and reducing the man to his basest form; an eager pup waiting to be breed. The mere thought however inconceivable had Hannibal looping his hands around the still too thin waist in front of him. Mild surprise pulled at his eyebrows when he found a white puffy tail looped around the back of Will’s belt. 

“You little sycophant.” A feral noise rumbled in Hannibal’s chest as he crushed their erections together.

“I like to... to be th-thorough.”Will’s response was more whimper than words and punctuated with sweet moans. Aching to hear more Hannibal tugged the other close and rubbing their clothed erections leisurely together.

Small black buttons at the brunette’s neck were messaged from their holes. Skin that seemed perpetually tan regardless of its lack of sun was gradually revealed. “Hannibal may-maybe we sh-should-!” His words were abruptly cut short as his back met forcibly with the tablecloth.

Adroit fingers coaxed William’s belt free from its clasp, the zipper just as easily falling under his lustful intent. A harsh gasp was jostled free as Hannibal roughly tugged away the younger’s decency.  There was little Will could do as he was twirled onto his front, the silky tablecloth bunching up uncomfortably beneath his chest.

Light panic roiled through Will’s chest as his trousers were gently pushed below his hips.

 “Hannibal I’ve never- Ah!” The rest of his words died on his lips as Hannibal pressed a cold finger to his tailbone. Teeth worried at his lip as that finger dipped lower, ill prepared for the feeling of it going inside him. “F-Fuck.”

“Language William.”

The light scorn just made him all the harder.

Warmth quickly seeped through his back and Will blushed with shame at the sudden realization that his therapist and friend had used wine to ease the burn.

“B-bast-ahhn!” Phosphenes burst at the edges of his vision as Hannibal pressed punishingly hard against his prostate. Will tore at the cloth, pulling at it to keep from losing his mind as the pressure refused to let up.

 “I don’t enjoy repeating myself William.”

A sound too pathetic for him to admit too was wrung from Will as another finger was eased beside the first.

* * *

 

Things moved fast; too fast for the younger man clinging to sanity on the table. It simultaneously felt like eternity and a second all at once. Too much to keep track of, but not enough for release.

A strained plea flitted off Will’s lips and only received a poignant chuckle in answer. The pace of the three fingers working him slowed down, dragging leisurely with too much pressure and verging on the excruciating. He bucked against the table, only vaguely aware of his hand knocking into a glass, its contents spilling recklessly across the table.  

Hannibal’s palm soothed cooling tension along his back, whispering comforts to get the other to still his devastation. “Shhh. Just a little longer. I don’t want to hurt you. The only pain I want you to experience will be at the end of my teeth.”

Long minutes passed by with needy whimpers and choked-off expletives. Will was getting dangerously close to rebellion. He could see it in the set of his shoulders, muscles coiling up and ready. If Lecter had his way he would have dragged out the young man’s pleasure for hours, but unfortunately Hannibal’s patience was not eternal. His own pulsing need was eclipsing his plans.

Hannibal let the long hard pressure set for a few seconds longer before withdrawing his fingers. A small imperceptible shiver would have gone unnoticed if he wasn’t such an attentive lover.

Hastily his outermost layer was purged. A deep Glenurquhart check jacket was carelessly thrown aside, landing in a rumpled pile on the floor. Things at hand were significantly more important.

More wine anointed the doctor’s hard cock once it was released. He had waited so long. Dreamt of everything he would do to the panting man laid out like a rich desert before him.

An afterthought had a white sleeve crawling up Hannibal’s toned arm, smirk settling into place at the subtle touch being set into play. It would be beautiful.

Exquisitely tailored fabric contrasted beautifully with dense flannel as he molded himself to Will’s fiery form. An expanse of forearm pressed to the brunette’s lips and met with infuriating resistance.

“ ** _Atidaryti_**.” _Open_

Delight washed over him as William bowed beneath the order, letting the hard muscle and bone be shoved between his canines.

Thick Lithuanian poured out of Hannibal’s lips. The honeyed words dripping over Will’s body and sending white hot electricity spiking between his legs. He barely understood any of it, but the snippets he did catch were dizzyingly erotic.

“ ** _Atsipalaiduoti_**.” _Relax_

Equal sounds pain and pleasure blended as Hannibal finally pushed in. Even the litany of sinful filth dripping from his tongue faltered at the sudden tight heat. The edges of Hannibal’s mask frayed, the boundaries blurring between the person suit and the Ripper.

A pointed tongue painted the shell of Will’s ear, grunting as teeth dug in punishingly tight and groaning when the pressure increased as he slammed home hard.

The pace was brutal, Hannibal’s almost feral noises breaking up the rhythmic slap of bare flesh against flesh. Sweet iron painted Will’s tongue as a powerful thrust scattered stars before his eyes.

Gratification reverberated throughout Hannibal’s chest as he felt teeth sink home into his muscle, the spike in adrenalin spurring him into a hurried pace. A scalding tongue traced his goal, the smooth perfect junction between shoulder and neck that would soon be marred by shallow bloody crescents.

The vicious onslaught of speed hit its mark every time; Will spiraling into breathy moans that climbed higher and higher, the bleeding wound forgotten in his haze.

A flighty moan spiraled into Hannibal’s name and he lost the last shred of his mask flayed apart. Too sharp teeth buried deep into the sweaty hide, breaking it and spilling blood into his awaiting mouth. It tasted of clove and copper. Already the cannibal was planning a blood sausage that would perfectly compliment the heady taste.

Crimson lines streaked Will’s skin, further staining the once pristine tablecloth. A few ruined items were an acceptable price to pay for the delectable man falling to pieces at his hands.

Fingers carded through chocolate locks, upsetting the dog eared headband that had miraculously stayed put for way too long.

“William. My perfect sweet William. **_Griežtesnė_**.”  His pet whimpered in response. Luckily for him Hannibal assumed his request was just lost in translation.

“ _Tighter_.” He repeated himself, roughly tugging the russet strands tangled in his fingers and groaning as his demand was met.

A hard glint of intent went unnoticed as Hannibal slammed hard into the breathlessly moaning beauty, loving the way his name sounded distorted off those wet lips.

The pace stuttered and spiraled out of control as both men lost themselves in hurried pleasure.

“William…. **_Mano_** **_mylimas_** William…”

Hannibal lazily licked over the oozing wound, the imprints a perfect match to only his bite. It would surely scar over, just like the matching one from William tattooing his arm. They would both bear a lasting mark of each other’s passion.

“Hann..Hannibal I-“

“Shhhhh…I know….I know.”

A hard knock at the door accompanied by Alana’s cheerful voice had both men scrambling to put themselves in presentable order.

Will couldn’t help but grin at the blood seeping through Hannibal’s immaculate shirt, knowing the man had a decent sized mark that would be visible for weeks. It made him nearly giddy at the thought. The way the normally pristine doctor looked soiled fanned the dying embers in his groin. The wrinkled jacket just added to the aesthetic. Mandatory appointment were about to get a lot more interesting.

The room was plunged into blackness for a microsecond before the darkened scenery of Will’s bedroom blurred into view. He felt sticky and humiliation sunk deep into his gut at the realization that he had gotten off to a sex dream about his therapist.

“I have serious problems.”

* * *


	9. First Glimpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is slowly losing himself and Hannibal is not the best port in a storm he can turn to.   
> PS, I carried over the last bit of chapter onto this one to make it more cohesive for my own purposes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see. I am not the best at time management and for that I would like to apologize. I was working on a SFW Sherlock fic while I should have been writing this chapter. Sooo 4 months overdue and I still don't have as much as I would like, but the Sherlock one is finished and Hannibal gets my full attention again.   
> If you want to see John slowly being haunted and/or losing his marbles I would like to direct you here http://archiveofourown.org/works/3284804  
> If you would like to read the chapter and/or curse my lack of updates, carry on as you were.

_The thin pole in Will’s hands cadenced and warped, the nearly invisible line dancing through the air with a ridiculing hiss that oozed serenity. The sound reverberating through the trees, drowned out only by the giggling brook swirling around his legs as if it would sweep him away at any second._

_The fly skimmed gently across the water, hopping over the bubbling surface and snagging with a harsh tug. Excitement had Will rapidly turning the reel in his hands, struggling to bring in the heavy fish. His body slowed to a molasses crawl, the line seemingly never growing any shorter, only tauter as if it might snap at any moment._

_Steamy breath catches in his throat as at last the animal stops fighting and the line gives. Sharp points pierce the roiling mirrored expanse of water and Excitement quickly sours into disappointment at what was certainly a branch tangled at the end of his hook, only they didn’t stop when he released the reel. They kept surfacing. Will could only watch in horror, rooted to the spot as the black points elongating and drew outward, stretching into the long horns of the black stag._

_It rose, bleeding rivets of water from its oily black pelt. Hands fumbled at his sides, ripping the knife used to clean his catches from his waist and brandishing it wildly out in front of him. The beast paid it no mind, as if Will were no more than a kitten brandishing thin needled claws. He wanted to scream at the Wendigo like creature, to yell for the black thing to not come any closer but his throat choked the words into nothingness._

_The Ravenstag’s decaying breath drowned out everything else as it pushed forward, even as it slowly spiked itself on the glinting metal in Will’s hand. Blood so black it was nearly rotting sprayed across his face and spilled down his forearm. A scream tried to bubble up from his throat and Will was horrified to find it coming out as hysterical laughter. The sounds distorting and ringing off the water that was abruptly turning red, as blood poured from the gaping wound and down his body._

_It was warm and sickening to the point of satisfaction in a way Hobbs had never been. Will sunk the knife in again and again while the Stag’s features seeped from animal to human, black fingers caressing Will’s neck, all the while whispering sweet nothings into his ear._

* * *

 

{“It’s Friday, 3:27 AM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland, and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

Doctor Lecter very rarely woke with the intention of murder. However the source of whatever sound had him dragging himself from his bed was surly going to find themselves part of the most important meal of the day, regardless of their species. He could make an exception for the annoying noise vociferously echoing through the dark and quiet halls of his house.

Hannibal listlessly thumbed a thin scalpel, silently ticking off a mental grocery list of items that needed to be restocked and figuring out what he was in the mood for. Aatu masala sounded positively tempting. If whoever was making that racket couldn’t possibly be bothered to use their brain properly, Hannibal could certainly make much better use of it.

The banging persisted even as the door was yanked open, the noise escalating. Curiosity had him tracking it around to the side of his house and was met with a rather humorous predicament.

Sharp metal was really doing a number on sun drenched brick. But the vicious look garnishing William’s stormy gaze was too perfect to mar by disturbing him.

Long minutes ticked by, it could have been hours for all Hannibal knew or cared to know. There was little else that existed except for the cold raging hunger that seemed to be pouring out of the unhinged man slaughtering his house. The stunning image Will portrayed seared itself into Hannibal’s memories. It was one that would be exquisite in soft charcoal pencil, truly capturing the vicious lines adorning his features.

“William…Will…” Gentle fingers disturbed the air. They brushed across damp russet locks, reacting quickly when the heavy blade swung with violent confidence at his face. Experience made it look easy as Hannibal tore the blade free from the other’s grasp.

“Now now William, you cannot hope to win this fight. _Be smart_.” The seething bundle of aggression simmered down a bit as Hannibal caged him in.

_Weapon lost he succumbed to fate. Black crawling arms morphed to branches, ensnaring him in the Ravenstag’s trap. His life was changing. For the better or for the worse he couldn't fathom. But for once he didn't fight it. Lest he risk losing what little remained of himself._

* * *

 

A dirty shell stood vacant against bland olive velvet. Everything that made up Will Graham was a million miles away, his carcass staring listlessly out a window hidden behind blackout curtains.

Hannibal didn’t mind the lack of company, choosing to enjoy a certain alone time with the agent’s body he wouldn’t be afforded otherwise.

Black fingertips smudged scalding aggression into irises that were currently facing away from him. The look had long since vanished, but it still brought on a festering hunger with its memory.

Impact spatter from an interrupted carotid artery dripped like exquisite rubies across a tortured brow. It may have been a fabrication, but the image Hannibal painted even rivaled that of his Palazzo Vecchio.

Somewhere deep within the depths of his lair a Gustav Becker rich chorus announced the time. After the sixth chime dissipated into silence Dr Lecter reluctantly relinquished the half finished masterpiece, giving the inspiration his undivided attention.

Thin lips traced an ear, whispering into it with little to no intention of being heard. “William.”

Again he called the name.

“William.”

Only the steady breathing belonging to the comatose and the catatonic answered back.

A nose pressed into dark chocolate curls, savoring the intoxicating smell hidden beneath remnants of revolting aftershave. Hannibal detested having to leave such a vulnerable and defenseless creature unmolested, but even he had to stick to rules. ’24 hour notices on all cancelations.’ some things were simply unavoidable; lest he risk being rude.

* * *

 

Showered, dressed, and with lunch in hand Hannibal was pressed up against a sweltering back. Heat radiated through every layer of the three piece suit as the doctor lingered and fingers plucked at the neck of Will’s thin shirt. They ran round the rim till he found the coarse material of a tag and pulled it down. A light dusting of brown was the only remnants of the bite that had been placed there. He dropped kisses on the spot, lavishing it with attention and mourning his vanishing claim over the small patch of skin.

“Stay.” The order pinpricked with hollow endearment as it floated into deaf ears. Will would either be gone when he returned, or still an empty husk trying to find meaning in the drapes. Idly wishing it to be the later, Hannibal reluctantly slipped away, the cloying heat still clinging to his person.

* * *

 

Colors popped and swirled in Will’s vision. Twirling till all he could feel was a ten pound weight attempting to rip through the bottom of his stomach and encroaching on the nauseous. He reached out for something, anything that could stop the pigments assaulting his eyes. A soft tickling against his palms anchored Will; drawing him tantalizingly close to sanity.

Hands curled harshly to the only physical point around him, holding on to the material for dear life, lest he drown in the surrounding unknown. “h-help.” His words were tiny, barely a whisper against the war drums pounding away at his ears.

Deep even breathing and the very tangible weight in his grasp was the only thing keeping Will real; Keeping him from dissolving into a congealed mass of blood and bone and death. It kept his mind working forward.

 

 _In_.

Cool air rushed past Will’s mouth, bringing with it everything Hannibal had taught him.

 ** _CALM_** _._ _Even breathing, don’t panic._

 ** _PEACEFUL_** _. Back at home, surrounded by dogs_.

 ** _IDENTITY_** _. Will Graham, teacher. No one else_.

 

 _Out_.

Fire poured from Will’s lungs, purging everything Hannibal didn’t want him to hold onto.

 ** _ANXIETY_**. _Don’t think too much_.

 ** _WORK_**. _Crawford and his problems don’t exist here_.

 ** _OTHERS_**. _Focus only on the people important_.

 _Winston_.

“Hannibal.” Will sighed the word to his anchor. The murderously loud army going to war behind his eardrums slowing with each repeat of the prescription till the hurricane of color ebbed into a light drizzle.

Green blotted out all else. And fear licked between the folds of his amygdala, terrified that he was still trapped and insane in his own head. But the wisps of tincture hiding at the very edges of Will’s view calmed hiss nerves. The shade of unknown green was vaguely familiar. Some long three syllabled word that he was fairly certain only painters and paint companies had any business knowing was one of the most comforting sights he knew. It meant he wasn’t lost in the woods, or wandering down some highway. He was safe in a dear friend’s home. 

“Hannibal?” Dead silence replied back. Again Will called out. And again he received no response.

He was alone.

Dead, dying, and hollow eyes stared from nearly every angle. From paintings to taxidermy and even the skulls artfully lining the edge of a table meant purely for embellishment seemed to be investigating him. Picking apart Will’s subconscious till he could no longer stand it. Stubbornness was the only thing that kept him from fleeing the room entirely.

“Fuck off!” Graham’s words shot through the deafening and judgmental silence, settling it to a mere uncomfortable simmer behind aching corneas.

Will milled about, unsure if he was an unwelcomed guest or an intruder. The only way to find out would be to call to the house’s owner. But that just seemed to make the incessant feelings hollowing out his stomach angrier. The only right course was to just leave, but an invisible tether kept him from making the final leap into escape.

It just made Graham more annoyed than anything. He couldn’t leave, but he couldn’t stay either.

Habit forced a swift glance to his wrist and found his luck was in its usual place: 3 states over having a laugh at his expense with his watch.

Will wheeled around the room and found will increasing irritation that there was a sever lack of time keeping devices in the area.

The mantra sounding in his head stutters when it rounds on the time; Repeating on an endless broken loop until he can be able to complete it.

_Will Graham, Baltimore Maryland…_

He lingers at the desk eyeing it for anything even resembling a clock face and comes up empty.

_Will Graham, Baltimore Maryland…_

Large sheets of paper litter the tabletop and he can’t help but indulge his curiosity.

_Will Graham, Baltimore Maryland…_

Dark lines bloomed across the stark surface.

_Will Graham, Baltimore Maryland…_

An old regal building surrounded by only half sketched structures hinted at the man Hannibal used to be. He had stood in front of this building once. Felt its dominance so much that it left an impression on the doctor.

_Will Graham, Baltimore Maryland…_

Beneath that an entirely too detailed cross section of the human brain revealed itself. Each fold and coiling brain matter meticulously labeled in multi-syllabled latin. A handful of sections were shaded in and notes in foreign letters accompanied each one.

_Will Graham, Bedroom-…_

A sinfully bare Will Graham stared back at him over the fine line of a shoulder. An expanse of back he only ever recognized from the mirror was startling bright compared to the densely shaded bedspread dripping across his waist. The eyes staring back at him were his own but held things he couldn’t bring himself to look on or think about.

It’s not even the image that brings him to ruin. It’s the intent behind it. Finger tips follow every thin stroke of the pencil, brushing across the paper and magnifying the effects against his will. Transferred emotions, raw against his own have the blood rushing in his ears diverting to more important areas. The staggering lust and passion Hannibal forced into the image has the desk taking nearly all of Will’s weight. 

It’s too much to handle, too much to bear.

Shaking hands carefully pull the sketch from its place, turning it facedown and giving him reprieve.

Another portrait, this one unfinished surfaces from the pile and sends Will reeling into panic. Death. Death and anger pour into Will like an endless pit and is reduced to a gaping wound weeping horror. Staring back at Will is his worst fear.  What he were to become if the darkness ever won. If the killers clawing just under the surface were to break through his resolve and take over. Staring back at him was not Will Graham the broken toy used by the FBI. Staring back at him was Will Graham, the perfect killing machine. 

It didn’t need to be red; he knew what it was that painted his face. Blood.

Trembling limbs searched his own face, half expecting it to be a mirror he was gazing into. When the image didn’t move with him, Will should have felt relieved; instead it only amplified his grief. It was only a matter of time before he jumped into a murders skin and couldn’t peel it off again.

A dry wrecked sob spilled onto the sketch.

_Will Graham, Will Graham, Will Graham, Will Graham, Will Graham, Will Graham, Will Graham_

* * *

 

{“It’s Friday, 11:35 AM, I’m in Baltimore, Maryland, and my name is Hannibal Lecter.”}

A muffled buzz interrupts the soft scratch of pen against paper. Dull vibrations at the crook of Hannibal’s leg served as a gentle reminder of a certain temporary agent tucked safely away in his home.

He slipped the phone from his pocket, looking pleased at the simple and cheap device. The foresight of relieving Will of it was indeed advantageous. Fewer distractions bettered his chances of coming home to a mongoose still playing dead in his living room than to an empty house.

Mild disdain openly crossed Hannibal’s face when he saw who was calling.

Crawford’s name blinked angrily up at him as if the very ire radiating from the other end had contaminated the device.

With reluctance Lecter flipped open the cell.

“Good afternoon Agent Crawford.”

A slight upturn of lips was his only reaction to the confusion drifting through the line.

“Doctor Lecter, put Graham on the phone it’s urgent.”

“William is currently indisposed elsewhere, if you like, I could take a message and relay it to him when I see him next.”

“You’re not with him now? Then what are you doing with his phone?” Crawford’s voice rose in volume as he spoke, belying the hallway he was being backed down by Hannibal’s even tone. 

“Regrettably, it got left behind after his visit, it was only after that I realized-” “Cut the crap. I know Will doesn’t have an appointment today, so just hand him the phone.”

Irate, Lecter held his tongue. Resentment roiled just below his skin, making it crawl with the effort of keeping his voice pleasantly soft.

“True, but officially he is not my patient. William is allowed to visit me whenever he wishes, to simply talk or share a meal whenever he feels like you are pushing him too hard.”

The silence Hannibal received slowed the centipedes crawling beneath his epidermis.

The soft sigh spelt subtle victory as Crawford spoke again. “Fine. Just, if you can get ahold of Will, tell him we have another one that needs looking at. Goodbye.”

A loud beep signaled the line being severed. All Hannibal could think of was how rude Crawford was for hanging up before he had a chance to say his own farewells. He also had another thing to say involving Will and the amount of steps he had before he reached the end of a cliff. But he would have to wait for another opportunity to use it.

“If only you knew, Jack. That you were the thing driving William under my wing.”

* * *

 

The hours stretched long into the day. He had only seen four patients but felt as if they had somehow procreated in his office like rabbits to create even more headaches for the doctor to solve.

Pleasantries were wasted on the sweating pig being lead from his office. It sickened him to no end and when the door clicked shut he nearly felt heady under the relief.

The silver and blue face of his Lange Chronograph feed him the time. It was nearing 3:30 with just a single patient left needing attending to. Dates so slowly rotating they appeared to be stopped told Hannibal how many days were left till he set events in motion.

* * *

 

It was early twilight when Lecter dragged his keys free from the lock of his front door and waited.

One…Two…Three…

There was no immediate trace of sound. Will was obviously neither there, nor mentally conscious. Though that still left a third option that held interesting promise.

The door was clicked shut with a mute a sound as could be produced. Soft brown leather heels soundlessly slip from eccentrically bright houndstooth check socks. The navy and magenta material muffled the 17 steps it took to deposit Hannibal at the living room door. The oak gave way beneath his palm, the greased hinges like a good child. Seen and not heard.

A scan of the area revealed a painfully empty room. Small disturbances spoke of the occupant it once contained. One half of the curtains were splayed out and crumpled round the middle and signaled the start of Will’s journey. A chair was bumped a few inches off course provided the track. Analyzing dark pupils alighted on the lentele, pleased with what they found. The breadcrumbs that had been so tantalizingly left out had attracted some attention.

The nude was facedown and set aside which had curiosity licking wildfire through him. However Hannibal gleaned the most interesting results from the bloody candid sketch. The edge was crumpled in several places and dotted with salty wet stains. He lamented not being there to see the so beautifully wrecked man.

“Breathtaking.”

A gentle and steady hissing movement drew Lecter’s head tilting forward to peer over the back of an understated taupe couch. The image touched a tender smile blooming between his cheeks.

It was so impossibly small and frail. The little broken thing was tucked so tightly into a fetal position it looked as if he was trying to escape its own existence by folding in on himself.

Blunt nails carved bloody crescent moons beneath bitter chocolate curls. Knees pushed so hard against Will’s chest it was affecting his breathing was music to the sadist’s ears.

An aborted mess of near silently quaking hiccups were only hollow echoes of the soul shattering wailing that had consumed Will’s entire being.

“Did I bend you a little too far? My darling Will, Did you break?”

A gentle caress was the only source of contact between the two. Three fingertips skimmed over brunette hair and surprisingly cool skin. It earned him a startled twitch for his efforts, a sign that Will was still there beneath the surface layer of unresponsive terror. It was an interesting reaction in the ongoing experiment.

“Did you not like what you saw? Or are you scared because you did.” The utter horror seeping onto Will’s face only further confirmed his thoughts. Hannibal moved to settle himself into the negative spaces the agent wasn’t occupying, moving to sooth and comfort in a subtle act of mothering. The shame was rewarded with wavering silence, so he continued. “To hold the flame of life in your hands and to be the one to snuff it can make you feel, powerful. No one can blame you for wanting to feel strong, to feel invincible. It’s human nature. To surpass that nature, to choose only to seek out the flame and snuff it out to sate the hunger is the nature of a predator. They kill to suit a purpose. What is your purpose William? Why did you kill Hobbs?”

Storm wrecked seas turned their gaze to the spider weaving words behind his ear. “He was going to kill her. What was I supposed to do? I had to protect her, it’s my duty as an FBI agent.” Syrupy distraught clung to his words, making them stick to his throat.

Hannibal stitched concern onto his mask, a hint of pinched eyebrows mixed with a gentle smile felt entirely wrong, but it was what Will needed. “You could have clipped his shoulder, wounded him so he dropped the knife. You emptied an entire clip into that man even after the situation had de-escalated. There was no reason to kill him, yet you did. You decided to snuff out his life. It made you feel good. Powerful. But you still didn’t answer me. What is you purpose. Why did you kill Hobbs?”

“I already told you! To protect Abigail!”

“No, she was already bleeding out on the floor before you killed him. Why?”

“I wanted to hurt him! Make him suffer for all the people he killed and ate! For all those girls and the families he ruined! I wanted to make him suffer!”  There it was, the answer Lecter wished to draw from Will’s heaving chest, the thick flannel rising erratically when he finished spitting out the revealing words.

Every ounce of Will’s frustration bled through his body like poison. While Will coiled tight like a spring, Hannibal relaxed into his minor victory. “Your line of thinking, despite what society says, it’s not wrong. Some monsters don’t deserve jail. Sometimes, they need a taste of their own medicine. You have a calling William. Are you willing to change professions?”

 Hannibal ran a hand through impossibly soft curls despite their neglect one last time before extracting himself from the room.

A planted seed needs time to grow.


End file.
